Head Over Heels
by SFGrl
Summary: A new start...in a new city was everything he needed and nothing he expected. C&M, R&R Complete
1. Brilliant Blue Sky

**AN: Yes, that's right, I'm starting another series.  But even though this one starts off sad, it'll be my light and happy one eventually.  I just figured that with all the angst I had going on, I needed to start a romance series.  This one, like my others will move kinda slowly, but a few of my other fics will be wrapped up shortly, I hope. **

**Happy Halloween everyone!**

****

**_Head Over Heels_**

**_One: Brilliant Blue Sky_**

****

The sky was a deep, rich, turquoise blue.  A blue so brilliant, so vibrant, that he couldn't take his eyes off of it.

Not even for a moment.

"Chandler?" his mother's voice penetrated his mind, but still he kept his eyes on the sky.

 "Sweetie, the Harper's are leaving.  They want to say goodbye."

"The sky is so blue today," Chandler replied softly.

"Honey, the Harper's—"

"Want to tell me how _sorry_ they are," Chandler interrupted harshly, tearing his eyes from the window and focusing on Nora's shocked expression, "I _know_ everyone is sorry.  I _know_ that everyone feels just horrible for me, and for Iz.  But they don't know, they _don't really know_ what to say…" Chandler turned away from his mother, his eyes turning back upward.

"Sweetheart—"

"And I don't know what I need to hear," Chandler finished quietly.  He looked down at his mother again, tears filling his eyes as he spoke softly.

"She was my wife, and Isabelle's mother.  And she was everything to us.  Nothing that anyone can say will change that.  Nothing anyone can do will bring her back."

"I know," Nora whispered quietly, "I know.  I'll—I'll tell the Harper's that you send your best, okay?"

"Thanks Mom.  I—I'm sorry."

"No, Chandler, it's okay.  I know…you need time.  To heal."

"Yeah," Chandler croaked, and closed his eyes.

And she was there.

She was always there, when he closed his eyes, something that he found oddly comforting.

Because she was his crutch when he stumbled; she was his heart, she was his soul.

And she'd left him here alone.

The Cancer had come on quickly, and ruthlessly.  Over a year of treatments did nothing to thwart the deadly disease, and nothing the doctor's did made anything better.

She had been a strong, vibrant, wonderfully cheerful person.  Cancer had ripped all of that away from her.  She'd lost her hair, she'd lost twenty pounds, and with it she'd lost her self-confidence, her self-worth, and the sparkle that lit both their souls.

She died on a Tuesday.

They had met in a bar, of all places, when he was a senior in college and she was a waitress in a dingy diner, struggling to put her own recently acquired degree to use. 

They'd been inseparable, so it came as no surprise to their friends when they'd decided to get married.

They were married in April—Isabelle was born that October.

Their life was picture-perfect.  They had been trying for another baby—they'd both wanted at least three—when disaster had struck.

And now he was alone, and Iz was without a mother, and he was so incredibly lost, that all he could do was think about how blue the sky was today.

Because thinking of anything beyond that would kill him.

**

"I was thinking that it might be good for you to get out for a night…I could watch Isabelle, and you and Joey could go to a Red Sox game or something.  What do you think?  Chandler?  Helloooo?"

"What?" Chandler jerked from his reverie, and looked at Phoebe crossly.

"I was telling you that Joey has Sox tickets.  And that you should go—that you _need_ to go," Phoebe said sternly but warmly.

"Pheebs—"

"No, Chandler, I'm not taking no for an answer.  You need to get out, before you drive your daughter, Joey _and_ me insane.  Please Chandler, just do this."

"Fine," Chandler relented, and stared down at his soup blankly.  Phoebe turned around, a satisfied grin lining her face, as she began cleaning the kitchen once more.  For a long moment, the room was silent, save for Phoebe's occasional rustling.

"I'm thinking about moving," Chandler said suddenly, and Phoebe spun around, shocked.

"What?"

"I—I just think it would be good for me…and for Iz.  A new city, a new start…with no—" Chandler stopped and sighed deeply, "with no memories of Caitlin shadowing us."

"Chandler—"

"I know…I know that Joey will be upset.  But I need this Phoebe.  I…I can't walk down the street without thinking about what I had—about what I lost."

"Wh-where would you go?"

"I was thinking about New York.  It would—It would still be close to Boston, and my company has an office there—"

"But," Phoebe whined, tears lining her eyes, "you _hate_ your job!  And who'll take care of Isabelle when you're at work?"

"I'll hire someone…a nanny or something.  Look Pheebs, maybe this won't be permanent, ya know?  But I just can't stay here right now.  I feel like I'm suffocating.  Here, Caitlin is _everywhere_."

"I know," Phoebe whispered, and pulled her friend into a hug, "but we'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too," Chandler whispered back, "but this is just something I have to do."

**

New York City

"This is ridiculous," Monica whined, and tossed the want ads to the side, "there are NO jobs!  My mom was right!  I'm a total loser!" 

"Oh, Mon, come on, it isn't that bad!" Rachel smiled at her friend and roommate sympathetically.

"Oh really?  I've been out of a job for three months, Rach, and nothing!  Nada! Zip! Zero!"

"Okay, okay, I get it!  Look, I'm sure something will come up—"

"Right," Monica snorted, and stood up, "unlike _some_ people, things don't just magically _fall_ into my lap!"

"What is that supposed to mean?" Rachel pouted.

"Rach, do you have your dream job?"

"Well, yeah, but—"

"And didn't you get that job because a friend of a friend thought you were 'fashion' material?"

"Well I—"

"And don't you have a _fabulous_ boyfriend who treats you like a princess?"

"Yeah, but it's not like _you'd_ date him—he's your _brother_!"

"Ew, and SO not my point!  Rach, I don't have a boyfriend, I don't have a job, and I _hated_ the job I was fired from!"

"Well, what do you want me to do?  It's not like cute guys are falling out of the freaking sky in this city!"

Right on cue, there was a knock at the door.

Rachel arched an eyebrow, and Monica rolled her eyes, before crossing the room to answer the door.

On the other side stood a man in his late twenties, tall, well built, with sandy hair and bright blue eyes.

"Hi, um, is there a…Rachel Green here?"

Monica sighed.  It figured.

"Yeah," she said, disappointment lining her voice.  She turned, and glared at Rachel, "It's for _you_."

Rachel smiled and stood up, shrugging at Monica before approaching the stranger in the doorway.  Monica rolled her eyes again, and walked back into the living room, before sinking into her overstuffed reading chair.  She struggled to ignore the hushed conversation at the door, and feigned disinterest when Rachel returned a moment later.

"His name is _Joshua_," Rachel smiled, and held up a thin black Gucci wallet, "he found my wallet in the coffee shop.  Isn't that amazing?"

"Miraculous," Monica mumbled.

"Man, if Ross were here I'd be getting an earful, huh?" Rachel giggled.

"Unbelievable," Monica threw her hands in the air, "Do you _know _what would have happened if _I_ would have lost my wallet?  It would have been found by some _criminal_ who would have maxed out all of my cards and stolen my identity!  But you lose your wallet, and some tall, handsome stranger brings it back to you!"

"He was pretty hot, huh?" Rachel smiled dreamily.

"Rachel!"

"What?  I'm just saying!"

**

Boston

"Call us, if you need anything, okay?" Phoebe whispered, as she pulled Chandler into a hug.

"I will," Chandler smiled.

"Take care of your dad, okay?" Joey said, as he crouched down to ruffle five-year old Isabelle's hair.

"I will," Isabelle giggled, "take care of your wife, okay?" she mimicked.

"Okay," Joey laughed, and winked at Phoebe.

"We gotta go," Chandler sighed, and looked back at the boarding gate, "Iz, say goodbye to Aunt Phoebe and Uncle Joey."

"Byeeeee!" Isabelle yelled, her tiny arms extended above her head and waved her hands frantically.

"Bye Isabelle!" Joey and Phoebe waved sadly.

Chandler stole one last glance at his friends, then picked his daughter up and carried her away.

It was time to start again.


	2. Night Whispers

_Head Over Heels_

_Two: Night Whispers_

_Stars shining bright above you_

_Night breezes seem to whisper 'I love you'_

_Birds singing in a sycamore tree_

_Dream a little dream of me_

"I don't want to get up."

"Mmmm, we have to get up.  It's only…Thursday."

"Just a little longer."

"Chandler…"

"Oh, come on, sweetie, just a little longer…please?"

"I can't.  I have to go."

"Caitlin—"

"I'm sorry."

"Caitlin!"

"Daddy?"

Chandler opened his eyes shot upright, his eyes searching the darkened room frantically.  He fumbled for the small table lamp.  Flipping it on, he saw Isabelle, standing at the foot of his bed, her eyes wide and her arms clutching her worn brown teddy bear nervously.

"Daddy, whath wong?"

"N-nothing, sweetie, everything's fine.  What are you doing out of bed?"

"I had a bad dweam," Isabelle muttered, her cinnamon brown curls hanging lifelessly in her round face.

"Aw, honey, come here," Chandler extended his arms, and Isabelle jumped onto the bed, and into her father's waiting arms, "Do you want to sleep here?"

She nodded wordlessly, and Chandler smiled.  He pulled the blankets around her, and she snuggled into his arms as he turned out the light.

"Iz, are you excited about tomorrow?" Chandler whispered softly.

Isabelle looked up at Chandler, her eyes shining.

"Tomorrow we move to our new home!" she exclaimed.

"Yep," Chandler laughed.

They had been in New York for almost a month, but had spent most of it staying in a hotel.  Chandler had been determined to find the perfect apartment, in a decent neighborhood, with a good elementary school (Isabelle started Kindergarten in two months) and not far from his office.  He'd finally found one, in Greenwich Village, and had signed the lease over the weekend.  

"Daddy, can you sing my song?" Isabelle yawned, and Chandler felt his throat constrict.

Her song.  He knew the words, but Caitlin had always been the one to sing it to Isabelle.  He looked down at his daughter, already fading into unconsciousness, and he sighed.

"Of course I will, honey," Chandler whispered, and closed his eyes.  Just as he knew she would be, Caitlin was there; smiling at him softly, silently telling him that everything was going to be okay.  In his head, he could hear her voice, soft as velvet, caressing his broken heart, soothing his worn soul.  His soft singing eventually lulled Isabelle to sleep, but for Chandler, the song only reminded him of what once was, and so, as they did every night, his memories of Caitlin, and of the life he lost, provided him with yet another sleepless night.

_Stars shining bright above you _

_Night breezes seem to whisper I love you _

_Birds singing in the sycamore tree _

_Dream a little dream of me _

_Say nighty-night and kiss me _

_Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me _

_While I'm alone and blue as can be _

_Dream a little dream of me… _

"I was thinking we could go see that new Sandra Bullock movie," Rachel smiled, as Ross set down her cup of coffee late the next evening.

""Eh, I don't really like her that much," Ross whined, and took a sip of coffee, "What about that car chase movie…what's it called?"

"Well if you don't know the name of it, then we aren't going to see it!  Besides, it's my turn to pick the movie, and I don't want to see some stupid action flick!"

"Hey, I'll have you know that _Die Hard_ is a modern-day masterpiece!" Ross argued.

"He's right, you know," an unfamiliar voice broke in, and both Ross and Rachel turned toward the stranger.  Rachel's frown melted into a smile, and she stood up quickly.

"Joshua!  It's nice to see you again!" Rachel gushed (a little too enthusiastically).

"Hi Rachel," Joshua smiled, and took Rachel's hand, "I hope you weren't missing anything the other night."

Ross, who had also stood up and was now watching the exchange with overprotective envy, cleared his throat loudly.

"Oh, sorry, um, Joshua, this is Ross.  Ross, Joshua."

"Hey," Joshua smiled, and extended his hand.

"Nice to meet you," Ross muttered, then plastered on a fake smile, and snaked his arm around Rachel's waist possessively, "so, Josh, how do you know Rachel?"

"Um, it's _Joshua_, actually, and I, uh, found her wallet here the other day…"

"You lost your wallet _again_?" Ross asked exasperatedly.

"Do, _not_ start with me, Ross!" Rachel glared, and pulled away from Ross stiffly.

"Um, I'm gonna go…it was nice seeing you again, Rachel.  And um, nice to meet you, Ross," Josh smiled uncomfortably, and made his way out of the coffeehouse.

"That was _so_ embarrassing!" Rachel hissed, once Joshua was out of earshot.

"Yeah it was," Ross spat.

"I mean, you didn't need to be so _rude_, Ross," Rachel continued.

"I was not rude!  Just because I wasn't _coming on_ to him like _some _people!"

"That was NOT flirting!"

"Yeah, whatever!"

"Okay, ya know what—I can't be around you when you're being like this!" Rachel fumed, and grabbed her purse.

"Like _what_? You were the one throwing yourself at a total stranger!"

"See, just like this: a jealous, over-protective _jackass_!"

"Hey Rach, don't forget to leave your wallet here for _Joshua_," Ross mocked, and Rachel stormed out of the coffeehouse.

After an hour of chasing her through tipped over boxes, and another forty-five minutes of reading, singing, and storytelling, Chandler was finally able to get Isabelle into bed.

And that was when the thumping started.

It wasn't really very rhythmic, and it wasn't getting any louder or softer.  It almost sounded like someone was kicking his front door.

Perplexed, Chandler crossed the room and opened the door, just as the offending foot was on it's way toward impact.

This time, instead of kicking the door, the woman kicked Chandler's shin.

"Oh!  Oh my God, I am so, so sorry!" the woman winced, and approached Chandler quickly, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, it's fine," Chandler smiled, "it's just my shin."

"God, I am so…I had no idea there were people living here," the woman explained.

"Oh, well—"

"I'm guessing from the boxes that you just moved in," the woman smiled guiltily, her eyes sparkling.  Chandler found herself drawn to the woman's openness and friendliness.

He found himself thinking that she was also drop-dead gorgeous…but in an instant, guilt crept in, and he had to fight to keep a cordial smile on his face.

"Yeah, um, just moved in today," Chandler managed to say, "I'm Chandler Bing."

"Hi, Chandler, I'm Rachel Green, your new, _very loud_ neighbor," Rachel blushed, and shook Chandler's hand.

"So, Rachel…you wanna tell me about the kicking thing?" Chandler arched an eyebrow playfully.

"Oh…it's just Ross—my boyfriend.  Sometimes he can be a real _jerk_, ya know?"

"So, you were…pretending that my front door is Ross' face?"

"Kinda…the thing is, my roommate is Ross' sister, so I can't really vent about Ross to her.  As far as she knows, we're like this _perfect couple_.  So I come out here to vent.  But now that you're here, I'll go back to venting on the roof," Rachel laughed.

"So…if you're unhappy with Ross, why don't you break up with him?" Chandler leaned against his doorframe, and folded his arms in front of him.

"It's not that I don't love Ross…" Rachel sighed, "It's just that sometimes…the little things…they just drive me nuts!  And I know he loves me…and I certainly don't want to lose Monica…she's my best friend!"

"Maybe you should talk to Monica about it.  I'm sure she'd be happy to listen to your problems."

"Have you _met_ Monica?" Rachel laughed.

"Um…no, actually," Chandler shrugged.

"Geez, Rach, how many guys have _found your wallet_?" Ross asked accusingly, as he made his way down the hallway.

Rachel glared at Ross, as Ross glared at Chandler.

"Ross, this is our new _neighbor_!" Rachel yelled, and put her hands on her hips.

"And what are you, the _welcoming committee_?" Ross replied, glaring at Rachel and ignoring Chandler's outstretched hand.

"Ross!" Rachel flushed, and shot Chandler a rueful glance.

"Look, I came here to apologize, but I—"

"Oh, don't do me any favors," Rachel spat.

"Daddy?"

Chandler, Ross and Rachel turned simultaneously, to see Isabelle standing in the open doorway, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

"Oh, Iz, honey, did we wake you up?" Chandler picked up his daughter, and ran his hand through her mussed hair slowly, he turned to the embarrassed couple proudly, "Ross, Rachel, this is my daughter Isabelle.  Can you say hi, Iz?" Chandler smiled softly, and Isabelle shook her head, before burying her face in Chandler's shoulder.

"Oh, Chandler, I am so sorry!  I didn't know—" Rachel bit her lip, and looked up at father and daughter guiltily.

"It's okay," Chandler smiled, "It was nice to meet you both," Chandler nodded, and began backing into the apartment.

"Chandler—I'm sorry too.  I had no right to—" Ross stuttered, his face beet red.

"Hey, it's okay," Chandler interrupted, as Isabelle began drifting off in his arms again, "I understand.  I'm sure I'll see you guys…in the hallway…soon," Chandler smiled, and closed the door hastily.  He shook his head, and carried Isabelle back into her bedroom.  Gently, he laid her down on her bed, and tucked her in.  She let out a deep sigh, and he smiled, and placed his hand on her cheek softly.

"I don't know about this place, Iz," he whispered, "the neighbors are a little bit crazy!"

Isabelle snorted in reply, and Chandler kissed her forehead, and left the room.

He walked into the living room, and heard the faint sounds of Rachel and Ross' muted argument.  Shaking his head, he flipped on his tiny, portable radio, and continued to unpack his boxes.

"You should probably unpack kitchen stuff…Izzy'll be hungry in the morning."

Chandler looked up, but was not startled by Caitlin's sudden appearance.  In his own mind, she was standing right before him, wearing the same stunning dress she'd worn the day she'd agreed to marry him.

"I'll just go get bagels," Chandler answered aloud, and continued to unpack.

"She hates bagels," Caitlin countered, and sat herself on a box marked "living room".

"No, _you_ hate bagels.  She just doesn't like the cream cheese."

Caitlin laughed, a tender, lilting laugh that made Chandler's heart sing.

In his own mind, it never occurred to him that he was talking to the wall, and not his deceased wife.  

It never occurred to him that he might seem a little crazy.

All he knew is that it made him feel warm, and it made him feel loved.

And in this new apartment, in this new city, in the silence of night, he needed nothing more.


	3. One Fine Day

AN: I think the question is: How many times can I use the word 'vomit' in one chapter?

_Head Over Heels_

_Three: One Fine Day_

"Iz…Izzy…Isabelle!"

"Whaaaaat?"

"Honey, you have GOT to put your shoes on, okay?  We're gonna be late!"

"Daddy, watch my dwess!" Isabelle squealed, as she spun around on the hardwood floor in her off-white tights, her light blue dress rippling around her.

"Wow, that's great, sweetie!  Come put your shoes on, please!"

"I wanna dance some more!" Isabelle protested, and spun around again.  Chandler walked to the center of the living room, and grabbed her mid spin, just as the five-year-old projectile vomited her breakfast all over Chandler's suit.

"Oh, Iz," Chandler groaned, as Isabelle started to sob.

"Okay, honey, it's okay…I'm just gonna…um…" Chandler stuttered, unsure what to do next.  There was a knock on his front door, and his eyes widened.

"Shit," he muttered, and Isabelle sniffled loudly.

"I mean shoot," Chandler said quickly, and turned to answer the door.

He pulled open the door, to reveal a petite, dark haired woman, with striking blue eyes and perfect, porcelain skin.  She was simply breathtaking, so much so, that Chandler had to force his jaw closed.  The woman's sapphire eyes lowered slightly, and Chandler was suddenly aware that he was totally covered in vomit.

"Um, I…" Chandler stuttered, and backed out of the doorway.  The woman smiled sympathetically, and Chandler felt a warmth flush through him.  It was immediately followed by an icy guilt, and a slight embarrassment.  Caitlin's face flashed through his mind, only to fade as the woman spoke.

"This looks like a really bad time," the woman said, her voice soft and warm.

"I'm sorry, my daughter just…you know, can you just give me a minute?"

"I can come back…I just live—"

"No!  No, um, that's okay…I'll be five minutes," Chandler smiled, and grabbed Isabelle on his way to the bathroom.

*

Monica opened her mouth to reply, but her new neighbor closed the bathroom door before she had an opportunity.  Left totally alone in the apartment, she scanned the room, taking in everything she could.

 He was still in the process of unpacking, but he'd tried to make a comfortable and safe living space for him and his little girl.  There was a soft, light brown sofa in the far corner of the room, and a matching overstuffed reading chair adjacent to that.  A small wooden coffee table, a stack of well-worn books and a large green rug completed the corner – a space that had clearly been etched out for him.  The majority of the living room was obviously hers—it was filled with toys: games, puzzles, blocks and dolls were scattered on the floor, along with a large stack of books and a few videos-all animated, and all Disney.  Monica smiled.  It was pretty clear who really ran this household.  Her eyes moved to the kitchen area, which was still missing a few appliances, but again, he had clearly tried to make a comfortable space for them.  There was a small plastic plate sitting on the counter, with the remains of what appeared to be French Toast.  Next to that was a larger glass plate, with a half-eaten slice of plain toast on it.  Her first instinct was to clean up the mess, but she mentally berated herself—she hadn't even introduced herself yet!

Rachel had told her a little about their new neighbor last night—according to Rachel, he was possibly a single father—there was no mother in sight—and he was definitely, 'hot'.  Monica had had her doubts about Rachel's gossip—until he'd opened the door.  

He was certainly 'hot', Monica smiled, but the vomit-suit was definitely a turn off.  She was only able to catch a brief glimpse of the little girl, but she could tell already that—vomit aside—she was adorable.  

She was jerked from her thoughts when the bathroom door opened.

*

_She was still here_.

That was the first thought that ran through his head, but it was immediately replaced by a deep sadness—and slight guilt—that always seemed to weigh him down these days.  

He'd managed to clean up Isabelle fairly well, but his suit was ruined, and he'd suddenly realized—after stripping off the soiled clothing—that the only thing he had to cover himself was a worn, threadbare bathrobe—a gift from Caitlin ages ago—that was itself soiled—a result of too many hurried mornings carrying a too-full cup of coffee.

So now he stood in the center of his living room, holding his daughter, feeling more exposed than he had in a long, long time.

He fought off the very strong urge to flee into his bedroom, and smiled warmly.

"I'm sorry about the…mess.  It's been a…strange morning."

"No, I'm sorry to intrude…I'm Monica Geller, I live across the hall.  I believe you met my basket-case of a roommate, Rachel?"

"Ah yes, the shin-kicker," Chandler laughed.

"The what?" Monica arched her eyebrow.

"Never mind.  Um, I'm Chandler Bing, and this is my daughter, Isabelle.  Say hi Iz," Chandler looked at his daughter, and she shook her head vehemently, before burying her head in his chest with a defiant thud.

"It's nice to meet you both," Monica smiled, "I, um, came to invite you to breakfast, but I am guessing neither one of you are up for that."

Chandler winced and pulled a face, before shaking his head.  He was certain that if Isabelle weren't so busy being dramatically shy, she'd have done the same.

"I appreciate the offer, but I don't think we'll be eating for at least a week," Chandler laughed, and ran his hand through Isabelle's hair.

"Okay, well…maybe some other time," Monica replied softly, "I'd better go…it looks like you were on your way out?"

Chandler smiled blankly, before his brain finally clicked on to what Monica had said.

The airport!

"Oh!  Oh, you're right, we're gonna be late.  I—I'm sorry, Monica, um—" Chandler jerked back and forth, unsure as to what to do first—put down Isabelle, or shake Monica's hand.

What the hell was wrong with him today?

Monica laughed, and extended her hand for Chandler to shake, "I'll see you soon," she smiled, as Chandler shook her hand.  She cocked her head toward Isabelle and smiled sweetly, "and it was nice to meet you, too Isabelle," Monica added.

Isabelle grunted wordlessly, and buried her face into Chandler's neck again.

"She'll…come around," Chandler flushed apologetically.

**

"So have you met any nice people out here?" Joey asked, as he, Phoebe, Chandler and Isabelle made their way out of baggage claim an hour and a half later.

"Um, most of the people in my office are nice…and I met our new neighbors," Chandler shrugged vaguely.

"Are they cool?" Joey persisted.

"They're okay.  One of them has a...rather _intense_ boyfriend, but the other one is _really_ nice," Chandler smiled.

"She's hot, huh?" Joey winked.

"Joseph!" Phoebe berated.

"Whaaaat?" Joey shrugged innocently.  Phoebe sighed and shook her head.

"She's pretty, I guess," Chandler flushed slightly as he hailed a taxi.

"Ha!" Joey grinned at Phoebe, who shot him a cross look.

"Oh, and then there's Izzy's nanny, who, I have to say, I'm not all that fond of," Chandler continued, desperate to change the subject.

"What's wrong with her?" Phoebe asked, as they piled into a taxi.

Chandler looked at Isabelle, who was busy showing her Uncle Joey all of the 'sparkly buildings' that made up Manhattan's soaring skyline.  He smiled, and turned back to Phoebe, his voice lowered slightly.

"Well, now that we've moved to The Village, she's kind of far away.  And I don't think she's interacting with Iz enough.  I think…I'd just prefer someone who lives closer to us and is…not so close to _death_," Chandler laughed, and Phoebe smiled.

"She's that old, huh?"

"_Ancient_," Chandler replied, then chuckled again.

"It's nice to see you laughing again, Chandler," Phoebe said softly, and placed an encouraging hand on his knee.

Chandler sobered and looked at Phoebe, his eyes sparkling, "It feels nice too," he replied, and swallowed down a lump that had formed in his throat.

"It's okay, ya know," Phoebe whispered, "to move on.  She would have wanted that."

"I know, but—" Chandler shook his head, "It's just…hard, sometimes, ya know?  I see her…in my dreams…and I talk to her—after all this time, I still feel like I need to talk to her.  Maybe I'm going mad," Chandler smiled sadly, and glanced at Isabelle, who was sleeping soundly on Joey's lap.

"You're not going mad," Phoebe said firmly, "there's nothing wrong with talking to her.  But you have to move on, Chandler, for yourself, and for Isabelle."

**

Monica smiled as she put the finishing touches on her lasagna.  She was hoping that her new neighbor had put the morning's incident behind him, and that he and his daughter would want to join her for dinner.  She'd heard shuffling in the hallway thirty minutes ago, and figured that Chandler and Isabelle had had plenty of time to settle in.  She took a deep breath, straightened her dress and hair, and picked up her lasagna, before making her way across the hall.

She stood in front of the apartment door, staring at the brass numbers for an immeasurable period of time.  Why was she so damn nervous?  She was acting like a silly little schoolgirl for crying out loud!  Shaking her head, she raised her right arm, and knocked on the door.

Her heart raced when she heard rustling, and the thumping increased, as the sound of footsteps grew louder.  Just when she was certain her heart was going to explode in her chest, the door swung open.

And on the other side stood a tall, stunning blonde woman.

Monica felt her heart drop, just before her lasagna slipped from her hands.


	4. Your Cheatin' Heart

_Head Over Heels_

_Four: Your Cheatin' Heart_

"Is this seat taken?"

Joshua looked up, a hesitant smile dusting his lips.

"Is it safe?  I mean…your boyfriend is—"

"Not here," Rachel grinned, and slid into the chair adjacent to Joshua's, "and besides, he doesn't _own_ me."

"Coulda fooled me," Joshua snorted into his coffee mug.

Rachel arched an eyebrow, and smiled flirtingly, "That's not nice," she said softly.

Joshua laughed, and Rachel felt butterflies flutter deep inside her.

That feeling was followed by a searing flame of guilt, as Ross' face flashed through her mind.

No…she wasn't cheating…she was only talking to…a friend.

"Rachel?  Um, did you want some coffee?"

Rachel looked blankly at Joshua, and then up at the waitress, who was looking down at her impatiently.

"Oh…y-yes, a non-fat latte, please," Rachel smiled politely and swallowed thickly.

It's not cheating…if you don't do anything…right?

"So…how long have you been dating…what's his name?  Russ?"

"Ross," Rachel sputtered after a desperate moment of amnesia, "h-his name is Ross."

"Right," Joshua smiled, "_Ross_.  He…um…he doesn't seem like your type."

"He's…he's Ross," Rachel shrugged, suddenly at a loss for words.

"So, Rachel…what made you want to sit with me?"

Rachel looked up at Joshua, and suddenly found herself lost in a sea of blue.  She took a sharp breath, and looked down at her hands.

"Maybe…maybe I shouldn't have—"Rachel stood, and Joshua grabbed her wrist, sending waves of electricity through her.

"Stay," he whispered huskily, his eyes looking up at her pleadingly.

She sat down, suddenly unsure as to why she wanted to leave.  She looked over at Joshua, as one of his comments echoed through her head.

_Ross…he doesn't seem like your type._

Ross kicked the ground dejectedly, his latest fight with Rachel still stinging.  He loved her…really loved her, so much, and yet something…just wasn't right.

He couldn't remember a time when he didn't adore Rachel Green.

It had started in high school…at some point, and it had turned into a near obsession by the time he'd left for college.

Then…years later…somehow…it had happened.

She'd looked at him one day…as more than a friend; more than Monica's geeky older brother.

He'd been there, to guide her through a particularly nasty break up.  He'd held her as she cried, and whined, and carried on about a man he had always hated.

If for nothing else, than for the fact that Paolo had won a heart that was rightfully his.

Then, one stormy winter's night, she'd looked up at him, her eyes no longer filled with heartache…it was filled with…something else.

Their lips had collided in a blinding passion, and moments later, Ross' dreams were coming true.

He'd finally won the woman of his dreams.

Ross wandered past a large picture window, his eyes falling on Rachel.  He smiled, as she laughed, her face lighting up with a radiance he hadn't seen in quite a while.

His smile melted, when he saw who Rachel was with.

He sighed, and turned away from the scene, his heart hurting, his eyes stinging.

The woman of his dreams…was never like this, when she was only a dream.

"Oh, God, I am so sorry, I—"Monica flushed, and crouched down, angrily grabbing fallen pieces of lasagna and glass with her hands.

"Wait, let me get…something…to help you," the blonde woman disappeared from the doorway, and Monica took a deep, shaky breath.

She was humiliated.

The woman…she must be his wife…she was beautiful.  

What the hell was she thinking?

"Here," the woman reappeared, and crouched down next to Monica, before gathering the remainder of the glass and lasagna with a dishtowel.

"I—I'm so sorry, Mrs.—"

"Please," the woman smiled, "it's no problem.  And call me Phoebe."

"Phoebe," Monica echoed, and lingered in the doorway, while Phoebe carried the mess to the kitchen sink.

"What's goin' on?" a dark-haired, handsome man walked out of one of the bedrooms, "Hey, who's this?" the man smiled at Monica, but she stayed frozen in the doorway.  He looked at Phoebe, and a look of devastation crossed his face.

"Oh, man, are you throwing away _food?"_

"Easy, Joey, I'll make you a sandwich, okay?" Phoebe laughed, then looked over at Monica, "Oh, honey, come in!  You're a mess!"

Monica smiled, as Phoebe led her into the apartment.  She liked this woman.  As much as she didn't really want to—she did.

"So, I'm assuming you are one of the new neighbors Chandler was telling us about?" Phoebe smiled.

"What?  Oh, y-yes, I'm Monica Geller," Monica shook herself from her trance, and extended her sauce-covered hand.  She looked down at her red-coated hand, and flushed.

"Monica," Phoebe smiled knowingly, and shot Joey a look.

He looked back at her blankly, and she simply shook her head.

"Well Monica, Chandler is giving Izzy a bath, and we were gonna order some pizza if you'd like to stay," Phoebe said, as she led Monica to the kitchen sink to wash up.

"Oh…no, I—erm, I thought you were making sandwiches?"

"Oh, honey, that's just to hold Joey over until the pizza's get here," Phoebe laughed.

Monica smiled, and turned from the sink, just as the bathroom door opened.

Chandler walked out, with a towel-wrapped Isabelle in his arms.

"Hey, I forgot to tell you there's coupons for the pizza on the fridge—"Chandler stopped, a smile lighting his face, when he saw Monica.

"Hey, Monica," he said softly.

Monica smiled tightly, and looked at her feet.  Chandler furrowed his brow, and looked at Phoebe, who was smiling widely.

"What are you smiling at?" Chandler laughed.

"Nothing," Phoebe replied, her grin growing, "Here, I'll go get Izzy dressed…you guys order the pizza," Phoebe took Isabelle from Chandler before he could protest, and began walking into the bedroom.  She turned, and looked pointedly at her husband.

"Joey, why don't you come help me," she suggested.

"But I want pizzaaa!" Joey whined loudly.  Off of Phoebe's look, he simply shrugged and followed Phoebe into the bedroom.  

Chandler watched the bedroom door close, then turned to Monica nervously.

"I don't know what has gotten into those two today," he laughed nervously.

"I—I didn't know you had…guests," Monica replied quietly, "I should…go."

"What?  No, it's just Joey and Phoebe.  When we lived in Boston they were always over at our place, so I don't even think of them as 'guests'—even here," Chandler smiled wistfully.

"They—they're both here from Boston?" Monica asked hopefully.

"Yeah.  They insisted on seeing our place as soon as I moved," Chandler laughed and shook his head, "I think they're afraid I'm gonna screw something up out here on my own."

"O-on your own?" Monica asked softly.

"Well, me and Iz.  I—oh my God, Monica, your hand!" Chandler crossed the room and grabbed Monica's hand quickly.

"What?" Monica looked down, flushing slightly when Chandler took her hand.

"You're bleeding," Chandler said softly and looked up at Monica incredulously, "you didn't notice the big gash on your hand?"

"I—I guess I was distracted," Monica shook her head, suddenly aware of a sharp sting in her hand.

"Don't move," Chandler instructed, and disappeared into the bathroom.  He appeared moments later with a First-Aid kit.

"How did this happen?" he asked, as he flipped open the plastic case and pulled out the necessary tools, before taking her hand again.

"I guess when I dropped the lasagna," Monica nodded toward the kitchen sink, "I broke the pan, and—"

"You made lasagna?" Chandler smiled, and pulled out a cotton ball and rubbing alcohol.

"Well I—"

"Then you dropped it?" Chandler laughed.

"Well, I just wanted to—ouch!" Monica winced, as Chandler put alcohol onto the cut.

"Sorry—I'm out of peroxide," Chandler apologized, and blew softly onto the cut to ease the sting.

Monica smiled, and felt a wave a warmth rush through her.  She was lost in thought, as she watched Chandler dress the wound, shaking from her thoughts only when he let her hand go.

"Better?" he asked softly.

Monica nodded silently, her voice eluding her.

"Okay," Chandler straightened, and looked away from Monica quickly, "what do you like on your pizza?"

"She's cute," Phoebe said later that evening, after Isabelle had been tucked in, and Monica had gone home, "she seems really sweet."

"Yeah, she's nice," Chandler smiled tightly.

"She seems to really like you," Phoebe continued, and Chandler sighed.

"Pheebs, I appreciate what you are trying to do, but I am not ready—"

"Chandler, she's nice, she's hot, and she really likes you.  We're not saying you have to get married, but—"

"I'm not getting married again."

Joey and Phoebe looked at Chandler, shock lining their eyes.

"What?"

"Chandler, you can't say that—"

"I can't do it.  Look, I know you guys are just looking out for me and Iz, but I—"

"Chandler I know that it's hard right now, but it'll get better!"

"Actually, Joe, you don't know.  Do you remember how nervous I was the night before Caitlin and I got married?  How everyone kept joking that there was no way I was ever gonna settle down?  But then we got married, and it was so great…it was great because it was Caitlin—"Chandler sighed, and shook his head.  "Joe, remember how you said that you couldn't imagine yourself with anyone other than Phoebe?"

Joey nodded silently.

"That's what I mean.  I can't do it again.  I won't."

"But…what about Monica?" Phoebe asked feebly.

"I—"Chandler shook his head, and closed his eyes slowly.  He opened them again, and looked down at his hands, "I hope we can be friends.  That's all I'm looking for."

"I don't think she'd say the same," Phoebe muttered, her mind whirling.  She knew that Chandler was wrong.  He was capable of loving someone else—of falling in love again.

And she had a feeling—a psychic feeling perhaps—that Monica was the one that could change everything.


	5. The Parent Trap

AN: High drama warning.

_Head Over Heels_

_Five: The Parent Trap_

_He closed his eyes wearily, and sat back in the green vinyl chair, as exhaustion coursed through every inch of his body.  He leaned his heavy head back, and let out a deep sigh._

_"You should sleep."_

_Chandler opened his eyes slowly, and forced a small smile._

_"I thought you were sleeping already," he said softly._

_"I was…dreaming," Caitlin whispered slowly, her breathing labored and shallow._

_"About what?" Chandler asked, and sat forward in his chair, his elbows on his knees, his body screaming protest at the sudden movement._

_"You…and Iz…I'm gonna miss her so much," Caitlin's voice cracked, and a stream of tears made their way down her pallid, emaciated face._

_Chandler took Caitlin's hand, and closed his eyes, fighting off tears he swore he would not shed in front of her._

_"She's…she's gonna miss you too," he whispered, a stubborn tear snaking his way down his unshaven cheek._

_"I hate this," Caitlin sighed, "I hate that I will never see her grow up, never see her go to school, get married…have babies."_

_Chandler nodded silently, not sure what to tell her—not sure that she wanted his reply at all._

_"I hate that I don't get to grow old with you," she sighed, her energy quickly draining, her breathing becoming increasingly ragged._

_"I know," Chandler whispered, his own tears falling freely, "I don't know how to live without you either."_

_Caitlin looked up at her husband, her eyes shining._

_"Chandler, you have to…you have to move on.  You should…for Iz…and for you.  You should…you need to."_

_"I can't," Chandler sobbed, shaking his head defiantly, like a child who refuses to heed his mother's words._

_"You have to," Caitlin whispered weakly, and then fell into unconsciousness._

_Chandler laid his head on her bed, her limp hand in his, and cried himself to a fitful sleep._

"Monica?" Rachel called, as she walked into her apartment.

"She's not here."

"Ross?  What's wrong?" Rachel circled the sofa, and sat down next to Ross' hunched form.  She laid a hand on his shoulder, and he jerked back, as though disgusted.  He stood up quickly, and crossed the room.

"I…saw you…with…with _him_," Ross spat, and Rachel flushed.

"Ross, nothing _happened_, okay?  He's just a…friend."

"Really?  N-nothing happened?  I could see it, Rachel…in your face.  You—you're _attracted_ to him!"

"So?" Rachel stood up, her eyes flashing, "so what if I am?  It's not like I'm going to do anything about it!  Yeah, he's cute…but _I have a boyfriend_."

"Right," Ross snorted, and shook his head.

"Do you…do you not trust me?  Is that what this is?  You think I'm just going to jump into bed with the first cute guy that walks through the door?"

"No…maybe…I don't know!" Ross stammered, and began pacing the room like a caged animal, "all I know, is that _this_ isn't the way this was supposed to be!"

"_What_ isn't the way it's supposed to be?  What the hell are you talking about?"

"Us!  _You and me_.  We were supposed to be happy forever," Ross said meekly, tears springing from his eyes and a look of pure defeat lining his face.

"You…you had _us_ all planned out.  Is that what you're saying?  Once you had me…it was supposed to be some kind of…what?  _Storybook ending_?  I'm not a _prize_, Ross.  You can't just—just _plan your life_, and throw me into it!  I have a life too, and I have my own plans!"

"D-do they include me?"

"I don't know!  I—I hope so, but Ross…I haven't thought that far ahead," Rachel replied gently.

"Maybe you have…just not with me.  Maybe you have with…_Joshua_," Ross spat, unsure why he had taken such a petty approach once again.

Rachel scowled at him, and her breathing increased, and Ross knew he had gone too far.

"Why do you do that?  This has nothing to do with Joshua!  This has to do with you, and your—your weird _obsession_ with me!  Ya know what, I've had it.  I have had it with this!  And with you!"

"What?"

"We need a break Ross.  I need a break from you.  From us."

Ross looked back at Rachel like she had just punched him in the stomach.  He took a sharp breath, swallowed hard, and walked wordlessly out of the apartment.

Rachel took a deep, shaky breath and retreated to her bedroom, defeated and exhausted.

The Next Day

Monica pulled her mail out of the tiny brass mailbox, and flipped through it aimlessly as she ascended the steps to her apartment.  She felt her throat clench, when she realized that the mail was full of nothing but bills.  Phone bill, electric bill, credit card bill, student loans…

Was she _ever_ going to be out of debt?

It didn't help that her latest job interview had gone particularly bad.  She shuddered, as she recalled the horribly creepy interviewer.

"Monica!  Just the person I wanted to see!" Monica looked up to see Phoebe standing in the hallway, her arms outstretched and her eyes twinkling mischievously.

"What's going on?" Monica smiled slightly, as Phoebe led Monica into Chandler's apartment.

Phoebe led her to the sofa, where Joey was already sitting, and equally mischievous grin lining his face.

"How was the interview?" Phoebe asked suddenly.

"Um…it was…horrible," Monica shrugged.

"Really?  Why?" Joey asked.

"Um…let's just say it'll be a while before I'm able to eat a _salad_ again," Monica shuddered again, then furrowed her brow when she saw Phoebe and Joey were grinning wildly.

"Well, we're glad, because we found you a job!" Phoebe yelled, then clapped wildly.

"What?"

"Yeah!  Well, it's not a cooking job, but it's good money!"

"What is it?"

"Okay…you can be Izzy's nanny!" Phoebe exclaimed proudly, and Joey nodded excitedly beside her.

"What?  Why…I mean, doesn't she have a nanny?"

"That's the best part!  Her nanny is dead!"

"Phoebe, I—I don't think that's a good thing…I mean, a woman is _dead_!"

"Right, so it's perfect!  You could totally do it!!"

"I don't know," Monica bit her lip nervously, then arched her eyebrow, "does Chandler know about this?"

"Well…no, but he would _so_ hire you!" Joey replied quickly.

"What?  Why?  I have no nanny-_ing_ experience!"

"B-but you are good with Izzy…and you are right across the hall!"

"I don't—"

The door opened, and Chandler walked in, carrying Isabelle, who was whimpering softly.

"Chandler, what's wrong?  Is she okay?" Monica shot up and rushed toward them, while Joey and Phoebe looked at each other knowingly.

"Yeah, she's just mad because I won't let her bring home _every stray cat_ in the city," Chandler laughed, and set down Isabelle, who continued to pout and rub her eyes.

"Oh," Monica sighed in relief, then stepped back nervously.

"So Chandler, found a new nanny yet?" Joey asked from his spot on the sofa.

"No, not yet.  The woman I wanted was already working for some other couple on the other side of the park.  I really want someone that lives close by, I think," Chandler scratched his head and moved to the kitchen to cook dinner.

"Yeah, and maybe someone that can _cook_ so you don't have to feed Iz macaroni and cheese _every_ night," Phoebe added and winked at Monica.  Monica felt her face flush, and decided to study the floor.

"Hey, I can make other stuff!  Tonight, we're having…spaghetti," Chandler finished sheepishly.

"So, what you need is someone who cares about Isabelle, who is close by, and can cook…my, _where_ will you find such a person?" Phoebe asked dramatically, as she moved next to Monica.

Chandler looked at Phoebe crossly, then looked over at Monica, who was deeply engrossed in his floorboards.  He looked back at Phoebe, and suddenly realized the trap he'd fallen into.  Sighing, he put down the saucepan he'd been holding, and walked toward Monica and Phoebe.

"Funny, that description seems to fit Monica to a tee," Chandler said flatly.

"Yep!" Phoebe grinned, and pushed Monica forward slightly.

Monica continued to stare at the ground, hoping that it would eventually open up and swallow her.

"Chandler, meet your new nanny!"

AN: Of course a few (all) of you saw that coming…but come on, it's a silly little story…not a whole lot of surprises in this one…yet.


	6. Can't Fight This Feeling

_Head Over Heels_

_Six: Can't Fight This Feeling_

Two Weeks Later

"Isabelle Phoebe Bing, get in here, _right now_!"

There was a short silence, followed by a soft sniffle, and moments later Isabelle appeared from behind her bedroom door.

"Hi Daddy," the little girl smiled sweetly.

"Don't you 'hi daddy' me.  I want you to come over here and tell me why you won't listen to Monica," Chandler instructed sternly, his hands planted firmly on his hips.  A fleeting thought danced through his mind as he watched his daughter shuffle toward him: he was turning into his mother.  He slowly took his hands off of his hips and crouched down as Isabelle approached.

"Iz, Monica asked you to clean up your toys.  Why did you ignore her?"

Isabelle shrugged silently, and stared at her shoes.  Chandler sighed, and placed his index finger under his daughter's chin, tipping her head up toward him.

"Izzy," he warned softly.

"_You _let them stay on the floor," Isabelle pointed out stubbornly, before shooting Monica a cross look.

"Honey," Chandler shot Monica a sympathetic look then placed his hands on Isabelle's shoulders, "Monica got you all these little bins and boxes, so that you can put your toys in them!"

Isabelle pouted, and Chandler chuckled.

"Clean up your toys, I'm gonna talk to Monica for a minute, okay?"

Isabelle did not reply, but set about picking up her mess.  Chandler walked into the kitchen and silently asked Monica to follow.

"I'm really sorry, Monica.  She's been acting up ever since Phoebe and Joey went back to Boston.   I think I may need to talk them into moving out here," Chandler laughed.

"It's okay," Monica smiled sadly, "Maybe she just doesn't like me."

"Trust me, it isn't you," Chandler smiled, and Monica flushed slightly, "Look, why don't you stay for dinner?"

Monica smiled, and nodded silently.

"Great," Chandler grinned, and turned to check on Isabelle's progress.  The little girl had become distracted, and was now playing with a set of blocks she was supposed to be putting away.  

"I'm afraid she's a little too much like her father," Chandler sighed.

"I don't think that's a bad thing," Monica smiled.  It was Chandler's turn to flush.

Feeling that she may have overstepped the line, Monica backed away from Chandler and toward the door. "Anyway, I'm gonna go check my messages…I'll be back in a bit."

Chandler nodded absently and Monica left in a rush, before crashing into her own apartment noisily.

Rachel looked up from the magazine she'd been reading.

"Mon, what's wrong?"

"Nothing!  Just…checking my messages.  Anyone call?  Because I _really_ need a new job," Monica rambled, as she collapsed onto the sofa.

Rachel sat up straight and put her magazine on the coffee table in front of her.  She cocked her head to the side.

"What happened?  I thought things were going well with the Nanny thing?"

"It…I'm starting to think Isabelle doesn't like me…I mean, when Chandler's friends were here, we got along fine, but since they left, she's been acting…weird."

"Weird?  Monica, she's five.  She's probably acting like a five year old."

"Maybe.  But…I just…I don't know if I should—"

"I don't think this has as much to do with Isabelle as it does her father," Rachel smiled knowingly.

"What am I gonna do, Rach?  He has made it abundantly clear that he is not ready to move on."

"Well then you either need to get over it and move on, or…"

"What?" Monica cried desperately, her eyes wide.

"Wait for him," Rachel smirked and stood up.  As she did, Ross walked into the apartment.  Rachel's smile faded, and tension immediately filled the room.

"Mon, mom wants you to call her," Ross said quietly.

"Oh," Monica looked between Ross and Rachel, "I'll call her from my room," she announced, and walked quickly into her bedroom.

The living room was silent for a long minute.  Ross looked at Rachel longingly, while Rachel looked at the floor.  When she finally did look up at him, he masked his longing with a look of indifference.

"H-how are you?" he finally ventured quietly.

"Okay," Rachel said shortly, then looked down at the floor again.

"Um, I know that you…you don't want to talk to me, but…but I saw this, um ad on the Internet…Ralph Lauren is hiring, and I thought…I thought you'd be perfect," Ross stammered nervously.  He placed the sheet of paper on the kitchen table, and turned to leave.

"Thank you, Ross," Rachel said quietly, and he nodded, before walking out the door.

Rachel stayed rooted to her spot for a moment, half of her glad that Ross was gone, and half of her wishing that he'd come flying back through the door, swoop her into his arms, and kiss her passionately.  Not sure which half to listen to, she slowly crossed the room and picked up the paper Ross had left.

She read the ad slowly, and a small, wistful smile dusted her lips.

"Can I come out?" Monica's voice broke her reverie, and Rachel turned to see her roommate poking her head out of her bedroom door.

"Yes, he's gone," Rachel sighed.  Monica emerged from her bedroom wearing a form fitting, deep blue dress, her hair down and cascading over her bare shoulders.

"Mon, where are you going?"

"Dinner at Chandler's," Monica replied, a wicked smile lining her lips.

"In _that_?" Rachel grinned.

"I'm willing to wait," Monica said, "but I figure I can cut my 'probation time' down to a minimum."

Rachel laughed and shook her head.

"What did Ross want?"

Rachel sobered, and looked down at the paper in her hands.

"Nothing, its no big deal.  Go have fun with _your man_," Rachel smiled encouragingly.

Monica flushed, shook her head, and walked out of the apartment.

Rachel sighed, and folded the paper in her hands reverently, before walking into her bedroom and collapsing on her bed.

Meanwhile, across the hall…

Chandler left Isabelle to her blocks, and walked into his bedroom to change.  He opened his closet, and pulled out a clean, light blue tee shirt and a clean pair of jeans.  He changed quickly, then inspected himself in his closet door mirror.  He fussed with his hair for a moment, a small smile creeping onto his face.

He moved to close the closet door, and in the reflection, he caught a glimpse of Caitlin's face.  He started slightly, then turned suddenly, his heart racing.  His eyes scanned the room, finally falling on a framed photo that he kept on his nightstand.

He walked toward the photo, and picked it up slowly, as he sat down on the bed.  He gingerly ran his fingers over Caitlin's image, and sighed deeply.

"What am I doing?" he asked the picture softly.

He heard a knock on the door, and stood up, before placing the photo back on the nightstand and wiping the tears that were lining his eyes.  

He spared one last glance at Caitlin's photo, before walking out of his bedroom and to the front door.

He opened the door quickly, a smile pasted on his face.  The smile faded, when he saw her standing on the other side.

She looked stunning, in her blue dress that made her azure eyes glow.  Her hair, normally up in a practical ponytail, was down, framing her face beautifully.

"H-hey," Chandler finally stammered, and let Monica into the apartment.  His head was spinning.

Why was this happening?  Why was he acting like this?  Why hadn't he ever noticed how gorgeous she was?

In truth, he knew that he was attracted to her—which was why he was so reluctant to hire her in the first place.  Somehow Joey had talked him into it, and he had not regretted the decision—until tonight.  He swallowed hard, and followed her into the living room slowly.

"Would you like some wine?" he asked stiffly.

"Yeah," Monica replied quickly, as she looked around the room, "Where's Isabelle?"

"Probably in her room," Chandler replied, as he walked into the kitchen to get the wine.  Monica walked toward the room, and hesitantly poked her head through the doorway.

Chandler approached with two glasses of red wine, as Monica turned toward him and smiled shyly.

"She's asleep," she whispered.

"Wow, really?" Chandler replied, and peeked into the room.

"She didn't really get a nap today," Monica said.

"Ah, that would explain the tantrums," Chandler nodded knowingly.

"Chandler, thank you, for…hiring me," Monica smiled, "I know you didn't want to—"

"No, it wasn't that I just—"

"It's okay, really," Monica smiled.

"Monica, I think I should explain," Chandler said more forcefully.

Monica looked up at him, and waited for him to continue.

At a loss for words, and unsure what to do next, he leaned forward, and kissed her.

AN: Sorry it's so short…I'm trying to work out some severe writers block…this chapter could change if I read it in the morning and cringe.


	7. A Kiss to Buld a Dream On?

_Head Over Heels_

_Seven: A Kiss to Build a Dream On?_

_._

Her first reaction was shock.

He'd leaned in and kissed her so quickly, she'd barely been able to react.

As the shock wore off, she became acutely aware of every single nerve ending in her body.  Her lips were tingling, her head spinning.  His hands, placed securely on her hips, warmed her entire body.

As her mind processed this, her hands found their way to his face, her nervous fingers brushing over the rough stubble that was beginning to emerge on his cheeks.

She melted into the kiss, mind and body, her heart already confirming that this was, without a doubt, the best kiss she'd ever had.

Moments later, he pulled away, and again she was surprised at how cold she suddenly felt.

One kiss, and she was already addicted.

Slowly, she opened her eyes, and focused on the face before her.

His eyes were wide, and lined with tears.  His mouth was slightly agape, as though he were trying to form words.

As logic made it's way into her head once more, a heartbreaking realization dawned on her.

He was panicking.

.

He dropped his hands from their place on her hips, and took a long step back, before focusing his eyes on the floor below.

"M-Monica, I'm so sorry.  I don't know why…I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," Monica smiled softly, and took a small step toward him.  He stepped away nervously, before turning away from her.

"I think…maybe…maybe we should postpone dinner tonight," he said quickly.

"Yeah, maybe we should," Monica replied flatly, her disappointment melting into aggravation. 

"In fact, maybe it's better that we keep this relationship strictly professional.  I don't want Iz getting hurt," Chandler rambled, as he picked up the two glasses of wine he'd previously poured for them, and walked past Monica into the kitchen, before placing the wine on the kitchen counter.

"Actually, I think maybe you should start looking for a new nanny altogether, Chandler," Monica stated, as she crossed the room and opened the front door, "this was just a transition for me until I could get a _real job_ anyway."

Panic flashed through Chandler's eyes, though Monica missed it.  She had turned to leave, all the while hoping that Chandler would stop her and ask her to stay.  Her back to him, she was unaware of his internal struggle, and the way he wore his conflicting emotions on his face.  When it seemed clear that he was not going to reply, she walked fully through the doorway, and closed the door firmly behind her.

.

Two Weeks Later

.

"Honey, please stop fidgeting," Chandler sighed, as he attempted to pull Isabelle's hair into a ponytail.  Her constant wiggling, combined with his own nervousness, was making it nearly impossible for him to get her hair straight.

The past two weeks had been hell, as neither Chandler nor Monica had taken the initiative to talk about what had happened between them.  Monica would come over just as Chandler was leaving for work, then would leave almost immediately after he returned home.  Their conversations revolved solely around Isabelle, and though Monica wasn't cold toward Chandler, there was a definite wall between them.  While Chandler longed to talk to Monica about trying to rebuild at least a friendship, his own fears over where that might lead kept him from doing so.

"Iz, please stop!" Chandler snapped, his frustration with himself shining through.  The little girl started, then sat up straight, as her father wrapped her hair in a band and a pink ribbon silently.  Slowly, he picked Isabelle up off of the barstool, and placed her on the floor, before crouching down and turning her toward him.

"Honey, daddy's sorry he yelled, okay?"

Isabelle nodded, but kept her eyes on the floor.  Chandler sighed, and stood up, then looked over at the clock.

"Okay, go pick out your favorite shoes, because we have to go!"

Isabelle brightened at this, and scrambled to her room, as Chandler picked his tie up off of the counter and tossed it around his neck.

For a moment, the apartment fell into silence.

He wouldn't see Monica today.  She had a job interview with a hot new downtown restaurant that, according to Rachel, she was practically a shoe-in for.  And today, more than any other, he really needed her.

It was Isabelle's first day of school, and Chandler had been awake all night, his mind full of worry.  He wasn't ready for this—she was his baby, and he wasn't sure he could just leave her in the hands of total strangers all day long.

Isabelle walked back into the room, her black patent leather Mary Jane's in her hands.  She looked up at Chandler, as she held out her shoes, and Chandler felt his throat constrict.

He just wasn't ready for this.

.

*

.

Monica glanced up at the clock, as she was being escorted through the back of the restaurant and into the small office adjacent to the kitchen.

'Chandler would be taking Isabelle to her first day of Kindergarten soon', she thought to herself, and let out a heavy sigh.

Deep down, she wanted to be there, to help him see her off, to make sure she'd be okay.

She'd been up half the night, worried more about Isabelle and Chandler than her own interview.  Though she and Chandler had barely talked since the night he'd kissed her, she still got to see him nearly every day.  And though she would never admit it to him, she cherished that little fact.  

Initially, she'd been upset with Chandler for the way he'd acted that night, but as they slowly settled into their new 'routine' that anger melted slowly into sadness.

It was his friendship, which she was missing more than anything else.

.

"So Monica, what do you think?  I know the menu needs some tweaking, but…" The restaurant owner smiled nervously, his obvious attraction to Monica thinly veiled.

"It's a great place, Mr. Becker," Monica nodded, "would you mind if I took a day to think it over?"

"Not at all," Mr. Becker grinned, "and please, call me Pete."

.

*

.

"Okay, now remember, you listen to everything Miss Harper tells you, okay?" Chandler was crouched in front of Isabelle, straightening her dress as they stood in the doorway to Miss Harper's classroom.  Inside, children were wandering around the room, taking in the new surroundings, as nervous parents were being reassured over and over again by the young teacher patiently.

A moment later, Chandler felt a hand on his shoulder.  He turned and looked up to see Miss Harper standing over him, a patient smile on her face.

"We'll take good care of her Mr. Bing," she said softly, then turned her attention toward Isabelle, "Isabelle, don't you look pretty!  Would you like to come inside with me?"

Isabelle looked back at her father for permission, and he nodded reluctantly.  She turned back to Miss Harper and nodded.

"Okay, come on in, and find a chair, okay?" Miss Harper smiled, and Chandler stood up, as Isabelle made her way into the classroom.  Chandler stared after her, a concerned frown on his face.

"She'll be just fine, Mr. Bing, I promise," Miss Harper smiled reassuringly.

Chandler nodded silently, then watched as Miss Harper entered the room and gathered the children quickly and adeptly.  He sighed heavily, and shuffled down the hallway and out of the school building, his heart heavy.  

For a moment, he stood on the sidewalk just outside the school, trying to regain his composure.  Logically, he knew that he would see Isabelle in a few hours, and that she was more than ready to spend the day with children her own age.  But no matter how logical it seemed, he was having trouble figuring out just what he was going to do when, inevitably, she grew up, and moved away to college, then out on her own.  What would he do then?  How was he supposed to function without her?

He leaned heavily against the cool brown brick of the school building, and covered his face with his hands.

He missed Caitlin.  He knew that right about now, she'd be calmly assuring him that no matter what, Iz would always be a part of their lives, just as they were a part of hers.  She would tell him that she was only five, and that he was going to have to let go sometime.  She would take his hand, and tell him that everything was going to be okay.

"Are you alright?"

Chandler pulled his hands from his face, and opened his eyes slowly.

"She's growing up too fast," he said softly, his eyes glistening.

"Everything is gonna be fine, Chandler.  Come on," Monica extended her hand, and he took it, squeezing it as though it was the only thing that would keep him from falling.

"How did you know I would be here?" Chandler asked, as they made their way down the street.

"It was Isabelle's first day of school—where else would you be?" Monica laughed.

"Thank you," Chandler stopped suddenly, and Monica turned to face him, "You have no idea how much I needed a friend today."

"You're welcome," Monica smiled softly, before resuming their walk home.


	8. Everything You Never Knew You Always Wan...

_Head Over Heels_

_Eight: Everything You Never Knew You Always Wanted_

_Two Weeks Later_

"This is a great place," Rachel sighed, as she scanned the restaurant slowly. Her eyes fell on Joshua again, and she smiled sweetly.

"I'm happy you like it," Joshua grinned, and reached across the table. He took Rachel's hand, and caressed her fingers with his thumb.

Silence fell on the table, as the two smiled at each other lovingly. The darkened restaurant blurred around Rachel, and the soft music that was emanating from the piano in the far corner of the room seemed to fade away, as she looked into Joshua's eyes.

He had asked her out last week, and though she had been reluctant at first, she could not deny her attraction to him. He seemed to be the antithesis of Ross—laid back and cool, he never judged her, and never expected more than she could give.

Joshua lifted her hand to his lips, and placed a soft kiss on her knuckles.

Heat rushed through her, and she flushed, and wondered how much the wine was affecting her reaction.

"Ready to go?" Joshua whispered huskily.

Unable to form words, Rachel nodded shakily, and watched as Joshua signaled for the check.

Thirty minutes later, she found herself pressed against Joshua's apartment door, his lips on her neck, as his hands fumbled for the locks. Guilt coursed through her, and she had to remind herself that she and Ross were no longer together—she had nothing to feel guilty about. Joshua opened the door to his apartment, and the couple stumbled into the room, slamming the door behind them.

Joshua moved from Rachel's neck to her lips, as Rachel pushed images of Ross from her mind. She wanted Joshua, she knew she did, and she couldn't understand why Ross was invading her psyche now. Annoyed with her own conscience, she shoved Joshua onto the sofa, and fell on top of him. He grunted in surprise, as she tore at his shirt, and kissed him roughly.

She wanted this—she needed to move on.

She didn't love Ross anymore. He was too controlling, and too needy all at once. He had unrealistic expectations, he…he…

_Kissed so much better than Joshua._

Frustration coursed through her, and she growled audibly, startling Joshua, who was busy fumbling with her bra. He paused, and looked up at her.

"Rachel, are you okay?"

"Fine," Rachel said breathlessly, and moved to kiss Joshua again. He pulled away, his brow furrowed.

"You seem…angry," he ventured.

"I'm not angry, I'm…I'm…" Rachel sighed, and pulled herself off of Joshua. He sat upright, and placed a supportive hand on her knee.

"I don't know what I am," Rachel finally sighed, and looked up at Joshua sadly, "I feel…all of these conflicting emotions, and I don't…I can't…I think I should go," she sighed deeply, and began gathering her clothes.

Joshua's eyes widened, and he took her hand quickly.

"Rach, wait. C'mon, let's talk about this! You don't have to leave," he begged.

Rachel pulled her dress over her head, and turned to Joshua, tears lining her eyes.

"I'm not ready for this," she whispered, and rushed out of the apartment before Joshua could protest.

She hurried out of the building, her heart racing, and her eyes stinging from unshed tears. She was angry, and sad, and disappointed and embarrassed all at once, and it was too much emotion for her to keep bottled up for the sake of dignity. She hailed a cab, and slid into the backseat, sobbing uncontrollably the entire ride.

She couldn't understand why it was so hard for her to move on with Joshua. She'd been just fine all evening, but as soon as they had gotten back to his apartment, her doubts had resurfaced. As the cab pulled up to the corner of Bedford and Grove, she tossed two bills at the cab driver, and climbed out of the car. Wiping her eyes, she made her way up the steps to her apartment, her body still trembling, but her sobs subsiding. She opened the door to find Monica, organizing her recipe box at the kitchen table.

"Mon," she whined loudly, as she slammed the door behind her.

"Rach? Are you okay? What happened?"

"Ross happened!" Rachel replied angrily.

"What?"

"I…I tried to move on…and everything was fine, until Joshua started kissing me, and all I could think about was _your stupid brother_, and how he kisses so much better, and I shouldn't be having these thoughts when I am with a _really_ great guy, who I like a lot! I hate him! I hate Ross so much!" Rachel rambled angrily, as she paced the kitchen.

"Um, Rach—"

"I mean, why does he have to go and _ruin_ what could have been the _best_ night of my life? Joshua is so…he's just…oh!" Rachel shook her head angrily.

"He's what?" Ross' voice came from behind Rachel, and she froze.

Time stopped. Rachel closed her eyes, and had to remind herself to breathe. She could hear Ross behind her, breathing heavily, and without even turning, she knew the look he wore on his face.

Guilt coursed through her again, and time seemed to speed up again. She turned slowly, her eyes never leaving the floor. Faintly, she heard Monica leave the apartment, and she couldn't help but resent her friend for leaving her all alone at this moment.

"He's what?" Ross repeated, his voice softer, raspier—the voice of a man who had given up on everything.

She sighed, and looked up at him, her eyes glassy.

"He's…different," she sighed, and shrugged slightly.

Ross' face fell, and she realized that her words had come out different than she meant them. She'd meant to say that Joshua wasn't _him_—that she felt strange being with him, and that she had just come to that realization, standing in her kitchen, looking into _his_ eyes.

"I see," Ross replied darkly, and was heading for the door before Rachel could respond.

"Ross, I meant—"

"It's okay, Rachel," Ross spat, as he grabbed his jacket from the coat rack and looked down at her sharply, "I understand now."

"No, Ross, you don't."

"I have to go," he muttered, and rushed out the door.

"Ross!" she cried, as the door slammed. The echo of the slam rung in her ears, as she silently debated over chasing Ross down the street. But she suddenly felt exhaustion overwhelm her, and rationalized that it was useless to try and reason with Ross when he was upset. Vowing to speak to him in the morning, she shuffled into her room and collapsed, fully clothed, onto her bed.

Monica knocked on the door tentatively, hoping that Chandler was still awake, but still not wanting to disturb him.

Their relationship over the past two weeks had improved, though it was becoming increasingly clear to Monica that Chandler really wanted nothing more than her friendship. Putting her own feelings aside, she vowed to make the friendship work, if for nothing else than to keep Chandler and Isabelle in her life.

Complicating matters was Pete Becker. He had already asked her out numerous times, and two nights ago, she had reluctantly agreed to a date, if for nothing else than to get Pete off her back. She had to admit that his persistence was charming, in a geeky kind of way, and though she wasn't really attracted to him, she felt like she needed to do something to get herself over Chandler.

Now all she had to do was tell Chandler about the date.

The door opened, and Chandler stood on the other side, looking disheveled and sleepy. Monica smiled apologetically, and stepped into the apartment.

"I'm sorry, Chandler, I hope you don't mind—Ross and Rachel are arguing again," she said quickly.

"No, it's fine," Chandler smiled, "I was just reading. Have a seat," Chandler gestured toward the sofa, then opened his refrigerator, "You want something to drink?"

"No, I'm fine," Monica smiled, as she sat down on the sofa. She suddenly felt very nervous, and began wringing her hands.

Chandler grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, and returned to the sofa. He plopped down next to Monica, and twisted off the cap of his bottle.

"So, what are they fighting about now?" Chandler asked.

"Rachel went out with Joshua," Monica replied.

"Ouch."

"Yeah. I kind of feel bad for both of them, ya know? Ross is so miserable, and Rachel doesn't seem to know what the hell she wants anymore—" Monica shook her head, "I suppose it's easier to analyze a relationship I'm not a part of."

"Yeah," Chandler replied distantly.

"Speaking of dates," Monica started shakily, "I, um, sort of have one tomorrow night."

Chandler choked on his water, and began coughing roughly. Monica patted his back with a sly smile on her face.

"Are you okay?" she asked, as his coughing fit subsided.

"Fine," Chandler managed to gasp, "wrong throat."

"Uh huh," Monica nodded, and patted his back again.

"So…who…who is he?" Chandler asked, once he'd recovered.

"This guy who owns the restaurant I work at…his name is Pete Becker."

"Pete Becker, as in, _Billionaire Becker_?" Chandler's eyebrows shot up.

"I guess—he must be, if he owns the restaurant, and that office building downtown, and—"

"You're dating a billionaire?" Chandler repeated incredulously.

"What, I'm not _good enough_ for a billionaire?" Monica asked with mock defensiveness.

"No! I mean, yes, of course you are, I just—"

"What?" Monica folded her arms in front of her.

"I just think maybe he's not good enough for you, is all," Chandler reddened slightly, and looked at his hands.

Monica smiled, but resisted the urge to take Chandler's hand—instead she stood up, and crossed the room.

"I think I heard the door across the hall slam," she said quickly, "I should check on Rachel."

"Yeah," Chandler stood quickly, and crossed the room, "I—I guess I'll see you, um, Sunday or something. Unless he er—flies you to Europe on his _jet plane_ tomorrow," Chandler laughed.

"I'll let you know," Monica laughed and opened the front door. She turned and looked back at Chandler, who was looking at her with what could be perceived—if she let it—as a look of longing. "Goodnight, Chandler," she said softly.

"Goodnight, Monica," he whispered, and watched her walk out the door.

Sighing heavily, Chandler walked to the front door, and locked it, before shutting off the lights and walking toward Isabelle's room. He pushed opened the door, and leaned against the doorframe heavily.

Isabelle was sleeping soundly, her tiny, chubby hands curled into tiny fists, her hair spread messily across her bright pink pillowcase.

He noted that Isabelle looked exactly like her mother when she slept.

Shaking his head, he pulled Isabelle's door closed, and shuffled into his own room. He climbed into bed, and turned to his side, his eyes falling on the framed photo of Caitlin that sat on his nightstand.

Images of Monica and the billionaire flashed through his mind, and in a rush of emotion, he sat up, and pulled open the nightstand drawer. Carefully, he picked up the photo of Caitlin, and set it inside the drawer, before closing it and laying back down.

He clicked off his lamp, and closed his eyes tightly.

And for the first time since he'd left Boston—for the first time since Caitlin's death, he was very aware that his dreams were no longer haunting him—his dreams were no longer about Caitlin.

His mind began to work out all that had happened, and all that he had done to push Monica away.

And he realized, as he drifted into unconsciousness, that he would have to fight to win her back.

And he would.


	9. Heart Shaped World

AN:  It's the uber-long, final chapter!  I've decided to wrap this one up, so I can finish up the other twenty million series I've got going on.  Bad writer! [Slaps own hands]

This one's for Sal, who is my biggest supporter, and for Chris, who just rocks more than anyone.

.

_Head Over Heels_

_Nine: Heart Shaped World_

.

_Sunday_

Rachel stood outside of Ross' apartment door, shifting from foot to foot, waiting for him to answer.  Unsure as to whether he had heard the initial knock, she tried again, this time rapping her fist against the door with slightly more force.

Still, there was nothing.

Sighing heavily, she shook her head, and turned to leave.

She paused, and stole a last look at the door.

It stood silent and unmoving—_mocking her_, it seemed.

Shaking her head, she reluctantly walked back toward her apartment.

She thought about all that she and Ross had been through, and all of the things that irritated her about him.  Then she thought about all of the reasons she loved him, and began to realize the error of her ways.

She loved him, more than anything: so what was she afraid of?

Maybe it was the prospect of being with someone who was _so certain_ of their future together.  Maybe it was because, now that she had her freedom, freedom from her family, and from her first would-be husband, she'd rebelled against the very idea that anyone wanted to hold her down.

Maybe it was because she had never loved anyone, the way she loved him.

She shuffled up the steps to her apartment, her heart heavy, her eyes weighed with thought and grief.

The door across the hall flew open, startling her.

"Oh, hey Rach," Chandler smiled casually, his face turning crimson.

"Hey Chandler," Rachel smiled, "did you think I was Monica?"

"No, I thought you were…the…pizza guy," Chandler shrugged.

"It's like, 10 in the morning," Rachel laughed.

"I was…whatever." Chandler shook his head, "Aren't you worried about Monica?  Or—or did she call you?" Chandler asked hopefully.

Rachel smiled sympathetically, "No.  She usually doesn't call if she stays out all night with the guy—not that she does it often!" Rachel corrected herself quickly.

"Oh," Chandler replied flatly, "well, I was just…Izzy was asking for her, is all," Chandler stuttered.

"Where is she?" Rachel asked, and stepped toward Chandler's apartment.

"She's um—napping now, but…she was…asking…earlier.  Anyway, you wanna come in for a while?"

"Okay," Rachel smiled slightly, and followed Chandler into his apartment.  She closed the door behind her and followed him into the living room, where she joined him on the sofa.

For a moment, they were silent; both pondering what was, and what could have been.  Finally, after a long moment, Chandler looked over at Rachel and spoke.

"How did everything go with Ross?" he asked tentatively.

Rachel's face fell, "He wasn't home," she muttered.

"Oh," Chandler nodded.

"Can I ask you a personal question?" Rachel asked quietly.

"Sure."

"When you got married, did you freak out at all?  I mean, about the future, and what was going to happen?"

Chandler thought for a moment, then looked over at Rachel again.

"Honestly?  Not really.  I can't really describe what I was feeling in the weeks leading up to our wedding.  I just knew that I loved Caitlin with all my heart, and I wanted to be with her forever.  I guess I didn't really start freaking out about the future until—until…she got sick."

"What was she like?  Caitlin?"

"She was…she was the kindest person I've ever met.  She…she never had an unkind word for anyone.  She truly believed that there was good in every person, and she made me believe it too.

When she found out she was pregnant…I've never seen anyone so happy.  She had that natural instinct—she was born to be a mother.  The day Izzy was born, she just held her and cried for hours.  She loved her so much."

Chandler took a breath, and surreptitiously wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.  He looked over at Isabelle's door, and smiled sadly.

"When she found out that she was sick, she was…she was devastated.  All she kept saying was that she couldn't leave Izzy and me behind.  That she didn't want us to be alone.  When she was too sick to see Izzy, she would still hum her bedtime song, determined to be a great mother to the very end."

"She sounds wonderful, Chandler," Rachel said softly, and took his hand in hers.

"It's funny, you know?  Monica and Caitlin could not be more different.  Caitlin was so soft spoken, yet she had this quiet confidence.  Monica is so…boisterous, yet insecure at the same time, you know?  They are so different.

"But Monica has that instinct too…she was just born to be a mom, I can see it, the way she just loves my daughter unconditionally.  That's what I love about her most, I think."

Rachel smiled, and squeezed Chandler's hand.  He looked over at her, perplexed.

"What?" he said.

"You really love her, don't you?" Rachel replied, and Chandler reddened again.

"I don't…I mean I'm not _in_ love with her…I just…"

"Then why is her not being home driving you mad?  You're _jealous_!" Rachel laughed.

"I'm not…I am not…_whatever_," Chandler shook his head.

"Chandler," Rachel sobered, "I think it's great…if you do love her.  I know how much she cares about you, and about Isabelle.  You can't deny your feelings forever.  What's meant to be is meant to be."

Chandler laughed, and pulled Rachel into a hug.

"You sound like my friend Phoebe," he said, as he pulled away.

"Call it women's intuition.  We know about these things."

"And what does your intuition say about your relationship?" Chandler arched his eyebrow knowingly.

It was Rachel's turn to redden.  She shrugged and let out a sigh.

"I don't know.  I guess that all depends on Ross," she replied quietly.

"What about that other guy?"

"He's…he's a great guy…but you can't fight fate, I suppose," Rachel shrugged again, "I've discovered that everything I hate about Ross is everything I love about him."

"Funny how that works, huh?" Chandler grinned.

"It is."

.

.

Monica waved to Pete, as the limousine pulled away from the curb.  She had insisted that he not walk her all the way up to her apartment, but she wasn't entirely sure why.

No, she knew why—she didn't want to risk running into Chandler.

She looked at her watch, as she ascended the stairs to her floor, and took a sharp breath.

It was nearly six.

She had been gone almost twenty-four hours.  No doubt Rachel would be worried sick.

She wondered if Chandler had noticed.

As quietly as she could, she walked into her apartment, closing the door softly behind her.

To her dismay, Rachel was standing in the kitchen, her eyebrow arched and a sly smile on her face.

"That must have been one hell of a date," she said wryly.

Monica sighed and shook her head.

"He took me to Italy…Italy!  Can you believe that?"

"You mean _Little Italy_, right?" Rachel queried.

"No.  The actual country!  Can you believe that?  He asked me if I was up for Italian food, and I said I was, and the next thing I know he is whisking me off to _Italy_ on his jet!" Monica laughed excitedly.

"Wow!  That's like, _the best first date ever_!!  So, how was it?  Were there sparks??" Rachel asked with equal enthusiasm.

Monica's smile faltered, and she shrugged slightly.

"I mean, he's a really nice guy, ya know?  I just…I dunno.  I'm just not attracted to him.  Is that weird?"

"Hell yes it's weird, the man is a _billionaire_!" Rachel yelled.

"Rach!"

"Well, are you gonna see him again?"

"We're going out again Saturday night."

"Well, there must be something, if you are going out again, right?" Rachel asked.

"I…I don't know," Monica looked at the floor, "I suppose."

"This doesn't have anything to do with a certain _single-dad-neighbor_ of ours, does it?" Rachel winked.

"No!  Look Rach, Chandler has made his feelings perfectly clear," Monica shook her head, as she turned and walked toward her bedroom.

"Yeah, I wouldn't be too sure about that," Rachel mumbled to herself.  Out loud she said, "I'm going over to Ross'."

Monica turned.  "Did you two work things out?"

"No, he wasn't home this morning.  But I'm going back over, and this time, I'm not leaving until he answers the door," Rachel said, determined.

"Right, well…what am I supposed to do if my brother takes out a _restraining order_ on my roommate?" Monica laughed.

"Ha ha.  Oh, _Chandler_ was looking for you this morning," Rachel smiled sweetly, and walked out of the apartment.

Monica's smile faded as Rachel left.  Deciding that she was too tired to deal with Chandler at the moment, she turned and walked into her bedroom, closing the door firmly behind her.

.

.

Ross slowed his pace, as he neared his apartment building.  He wondered briefly if Rachel had been back to his apartment since he'd left earlier in the day.

He had heard her knocking on the door, but something inside him told him that he just wasn't ready to hear what she had to say.

He was convinced that she was going to sever all ties with him—that she had moved on with Joshua, and that it was really over.

He wasn't ready to hear any of this.  So he let her knock, then waited until she was safely away, before slipping out the door.

But now he was making his way up to his apartment, his heart heavy and his hands shaky.

If she _was_ there, waiting, would she be angry?  If she _wasn't_ there waiting, would he ever see her again?

He rounded the corner to his hallway, and immediately, he saw her.

She was curled against the wall, her arms wrapped protectively around her legs; her head slumped to the right.

She was sound asleep.

He walked over to her slowly, and couldn't help but take in how utterly beautiful she was.

He crouched down in front of her, his eyes welling up with tears.  Slowly, he ran his index finger down her cheek, rousing her slowly.

Her eyes fluttered open and widened as her brain registered recognition.

"Ross," she whispered softly.

"Shh, it's okay.  Come on," he whispered in reply, and lifted her into his arms.  He carried her toward his door, and fumbled with his keys, though his eyes never left hers.  Eventually, he unlocked the door, and swung the door open, then carried her into the apartment in silence.

He set her down slowly, then sat down next to her on his brown leather sofa.  For a moment, they stared at each other silently, neither wanting to shatter the preciousness of the moment. 

"Ross," Rachel whispered finally, "I'm so sorry."

"Y-you're sorry?" Ross asked, taken aback.

"I-I thought I knew what I wanted…but…but I was wrong.  What I was trying to tell you last night was that…Joshua is…he's not you."

"Is-is that good, or bad?" Ross asked hesitantly.

"It's…it's both, I guess.  I thought that I wanted a relationship where the future wasn't clear—it just seemed like you had everything planned out for me…and it scared me, you know?  I ran out on Barry to get away from that.  I left the security of my parent's money to get away from that."

"Rach, I didn't mean to trap you like that…I…I guess I just thought that we both wanted the same things."

"But you never _asked_ me.  I was never a part of this future you had laid out for us."

"I didn't think I _had_ to ask," Ross muttered darkly.

"Ross, please—"

"So what does _Joshua_ have that I don't?" Ross asked sadly.

"He's…he's different in a lot of ways, Ross.  He's in a place in his life, where he doesn't know what he wants, and he isn't ready for a commitment to one person."

"And that's what you want?  Someone who won't commit?" Ross asked incredulously.

"I thought I did.  But then I realized that maybe I'm not ready for marriage, and kids, and the suburbs.  Maybe I want a few more years to focus on my career."

Ross nodded along, preparing himself for what was inevitably coming next.  He fought back tears, and was surprised when Rachel moved toward him, and took his hand in hers.

"But I do want you.  And when I am ready for all of that, I want it all with you.  I love you Ross, so much."

Ross' eyes lit up, and he smiled broadly.

"I love you too, Rach, so much."

"And you're okay with putting off the future for a while longer?" Rachel asked slowly.

"Anything, as long as I have you," Ross whispered, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

"I love you," Rachel whispered.

"I love you," Ross replied, then kissed Rachel with all that he had.

.

.

_Tuesday_

"So he actually flew her to _Europe_?" Chandler asked with disdain.

"Well, I mean, they only went to _Italy_…" Rachel smiled sympathetically.

"Oh, well that makes it better then," Chandler replied sarcastically.

"And she's seeing him again on Saturday," Rachel added quickly.

"What?  Is that why she's been avoiding me?" Chandler asked, hurt.

"No!  She's been…busy…with work," Rachel offered weakly.

"Right," Chandler shook his head.  "She really likes this guy, then?"

"She also likes _you_," Rachel said, "and I think you should go for it.  The only reason she's dating this guy is because she thinks that you just want to be friends.  Make her believe otherwise, and I guarantee she'll drop the billionaire like _that_," Rachel snapped her fingers to emphasize her point.

"And how, do you suggest, I go about topping _Italy_ as a first date?" Chandler asked incredulously.

"Try thinking with something other than this," Rachel tapped Chandler's forehead with her finger.

Chandler arched his eyebrow knowingly.

"No, _gutter boy_!  I meant your _heart_," Rachel rolled her eyes.

"Fine…she's going out with him Saturday?"

"Yeah."

"So I have…four days."

"Three and a half, actually," Rachel pointed out.

"Don't you have to go…make out with Ross or something?"

"Jealous?" Rachel laughed.

"Not really," Chandler replied flatly, as Rachel floated out of his apartment.

.

.

_Wednesday_

"Okay, remember honey, you need to make cookies for your whole class, okay?" Chandler said, as he straightened Isabelle's dress.

"But Daddy, Miss Harper didn't tell me anything about—"

"She told _me_, honey," Chandler interrupted quickly, then smiled sweetly, "Ready?"

Isabelle nodded and Chandler took her hand and led her out the apartment and across the hall.  Isabelle knocked loudly, and Chandler unconsciously ran his hand through his hair.

Monica opened the door slowly, an uncomfortable smile on her face.  She avoided Chandler's gaze, and there was a long moment of heavy silence.

"Hi Monica!" Isabelle finally yelled, breaking the tension.

"Well hello, Isabelle!  How are you?" Monica crouched down to hug the little girl.

"I have to make cookies!"

"What?" Monica glanced up at Chandler quizzically.

"Um, yeah, she wanted to see if you could…it's for her class…and I don't really know…" Chandler stammered nervously.

"You need my help?" Monica turned her attention to Isabelle again.

"Yeah!"

"Okay!  Come on in," Monica took Isabelle's hand, and led her into the kitchen.  Chandler followed quietly, closing the door behind him then standing nervously in Monica's entryway.

"I think that we need to teach your dad how to make cookies, don't you?" Monica asked, and looked over at Chandler, smiling.

Chandler relaxed slightly, then made his way into the kitchen.

"Yeah, so I don't have to bug Monica anymore," he smiled, and winked at Isabelle.

"You're not bugging me," Monica replied softly, "I love to cook."

Chandler smiled slightly, and shoved his hands into his pockets.  He held Monica's gaze for a moment, but she broke it and turned her attention to Isabelle.

"Okay, let's get all of the ingredients we'll need!" she said, and told herself that the way Chandler was looking at her was all in her mind.

"No, Daddy, you are making them _too big_!" Isabelle whined, as Chandler slapped a large chunk of cookie dough onto the cookie sheet.  Both Isabelle and Monica were meticulously placing evenly sized chunks onto the sheet.

"What, I like big _man-sized_ cookies!" Chandler replied in an exaggeratedly deep voice.

Isabelle laughed, and to Chandler's delight, so did Monica.

"It's too big, it messes up the _system_," Isabelle whined.

"Okay, you've been spending too much time with Monica," Chandler said, horrified.

"Hey!" Monica laughed, and tossed cookie batter at Chandler.

Laughing, Chandler tossed some back.

"You're making a mess!" Monica squealed.

"You started it!" Chandler laughed, and pressed a large piece of dough into Monica's face.

"Oh, you are _so_ dead!" Monica screamed, and grabbed the 'man-sized cookie' that Chandler had made.  She moved to shove it into Chandler's face, but he grabbed her wrist before she made contact.  Giving her a wicked smile, he grabbed a large hung of dough from her hand with his teeth, inadvertently licking her palm as he did.

She pulled away in shock, but quickly masked her feelings with an indignant stare.  She stood silently, and moved to wash the remainder of the dough off in the sink.  Chandler turned his attention back to Isabelle, who was still dutifully placing dough onto the sheets, and as he turned, Monica pulled back the collar of his shirt, and dropped the dough down his back.

"I win," she whispered in his ear, sending a jolt of electricity through him.  Unable to reply, he instead focused on Isabelle, ignoring the chunk of dough that was sliding down his back.

.

.

Thursday 

Determined not to blatantly use his daughter to win over Monica (again), Chandler instead decided to stop into her restaurant to surprise her for lunch.

He hadn't yet been to the new restaurant—he supposed that it was his own form of denial—this restaurant was Pete's world, and one he shared with Monica.  Swallowing heavily, he opened the door, and was met with the pleasant smell of Monica's innovative cooking, and the warm sounds of the afternoon lunch rush.

"Can I help you, sir?" a bubbly blonde asked, as he approached the hostess podium.

"Um, actually I'm looking for Monica Geller," Chandler smiled his most charming smile.

"Okay…let me see if she's on the list," the blonde looked down at the reservation list in front of her.

"Um, no-no, she's…a chef?" Chandler corrected, and the girl looked up at him, momentarily confused.

"Oh!" she finally replied, "I'm sorry…I'm new.  Are you her boyfriend?"

"Um, no," Chandler said quietly, "I'm her…neighbor."

"Oh, okay, well, follow me," the girl said blankly, and began walking toward the kitchen.  Chandler smiled slightly, and realized that he could have told the girl he was here to rob the place, and she would have probably led him to the kitchen.

As they approached the kitchen, Chandler could see Monica rushing between the counter and the stove.  Her was face flush with heat, and strands of hair that had escaped her once-neat ponytail were sticking to her cheeks and forehead.  The hostess pushed open one of the swinging doors, and stepped halfway into the kitchen.

"Monica, your neighbor is here to see you!" she called out, though it was clear that the girl had no idea which person Monica was.

Monica spun around, looking thoroughly aggravated and confused, and the hostess quickly excused herself. Monica quickly wiped her brow with the arm of her uniform, and approached Chandler quickly.

"Chandler, what's wrong?" Monica asked, panicked.

"What?  Oh, nothing, I just wanted to see if you had time for a break is all," Chandler smiled.

Monica furrowed her brow, then looked over her shoulder.

"I really don't, I'm sorry.  This is just not a good time," Monica said, her voice hurried.

"Oh.  Sorry, I just—"

"I'll talk to you later, okay?" Monica said shortly, and turned back toward the kitchen.

"Sorry," Chandler muttered, and exited the kitchen hurriedly.

Monica walked into her apartment and was surprised, and slightly relieved, to find it empty.  She assumed that Rachel was at Ross', as the couple had been nearly inseparable since their reunion on Sunday.  Sighing deeply, Monica walked into her bedroom to change out of her chef's uniform.  Changing quickly, she walked to the bathroom to freshen up, before walking over to Chandler's.  She felt she owed him an apology for being so short with him earlier in the day.

She turned on the water, and splashed her face a few times, before glancing up at her reflection in the mirror.  She sighed heavily, and shook her head—why did she care so much how she looked?  Why did she care what Chandler thought anymore?  Looking at herself again, she felt a small rush of guilt course through her.

Why was she going out with Pete again, when she hadn't given him a second thought all week?

Sighing again, she patted her face dry, and adjusted her hair, before walking across the hall to Chandler's.

She knocked, and shortly, she heard footsteps.  Chandler opened the door, and smiled tightly.

"Hey," Monica said softly.

"Hey," Chandler replied, "come on in."

"Thanks," Monica walked into the apartment, and Chandler closed the door behind her.

"I'm sorry, for coming over to your place today…I should have realized—"

"No, Chandler I'm sorry.  I was so rude—"

"It was my fault, I was being an idiot—"

"No, you weren't.  I thought it was sweet.  None of my _other friends_ have come down to the restaurant yet," Monica smiled.

Chandler's face fell, but he covered it quickly, "Well, you know, my office isn't that far away…"

"Well, then you should come by more often!  Just, um, not between 12 and 2," Monica laughed.

"Right," Chandler chucked, "Anyway, the place looks nice."

"Thanks.  I really like it, and Pete lets me do whatever I want."

At the mention of Pete's name, Chandler took a small step back, and looked at his shoes.

"He sounds like a cool guy," Chandler said, "for a billionaire."

"Yeah," Monica said, "you okay?"

"Yeah, I just…I should go check on Iz.  I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Um, yeah, okay," Monica replied, confused at Chandler's sudden change in mood, "See ya."

She watched, as he turned toward Isabelle's room, before turning and walking out of the apartment.  Suddenly, she felt frustration flare up inside her, and she turned and walked back into Chandler's apartment unannounced.

He was closing Isabelle's door, and looked up, wide-eyed, as she walked in.

"Are we friends, Chandler?" Monica asked.

"Yeah," Chandler replied, confused.

"Are we friends even if I am dating Pete Becker?" she asked pointedly.

"Y-yeah," Chandler repeated, with slightly less enthusiasm.

"Are we?" Monica walked toward him, "because your answer didn't seem very sincere."

"Monica, what are you—"

"Chandler, if we are friends, then we are friends _no matter what_.  If we aren't…then we should stop pretending that we are, okay?"

"Y-yeah, I guess."

"Good.  So, you're okay with me dating Pete then?"

_No!  No, tell her no!_ Chandler screamed at himself, _Tell her!!_

But he looked down at her, and saw that her eyes were pleading for the right answer.

Reluctantly, he gave her what he thought she wanted.

"Yes, I am totally okay with you dating Pete," he lied, and well.

He could have sworn he saw disappointment in her sapphire eyes, but she smiled quickly, and nodded, before leaving silently.

_You idiot._

He shook his head, and shuffled toward Isabelle's room.  She was already sound asleep, but he walked in and crouched down over her, and ran his fingers through her hair.

"I think I just made a horrible mistake," he whispered to his daughter's sleeping form, "because I think that Monica is our second chance.  You need a mommy, you know?  And as much as I tried to fight it, I need someone to love too.  Your mom is very special to me, honey, but I can't do this alone anymore.  And I know that she would want us to be happy.  And I think Monica could make us very happy," Chandler kissed Isabelle softly on the forehead, before standing up, and retreating to his own bedroom for the night.

.

.

_Friday_

Monica sighed as she wiped the stainless steel countertop, her back and legs aching from chaos of the dinner shift.  She sighed, and rinsed out the cloth, before laying it on the sink and pulling her apron and hat off.

Her conversation with Chandler had been running through her mind all day.  He seemed truly sincere when he said that he was okay with her dating Pete, and though she tried to hide it, and to deny it to herself, she was disappointed.  She was certain that she had seen the signs over the past few days—signs that his jealousy over Pete had spurned him into action.  The intense way he had looked at her when they were making cookies; the surprise visit to her restaurant; the way his mood had darkened when she had inadvertently mentioned Pete—the signs were there, weren't they?

Or maybe it was all just wishful thinking—maybe it was all in her head.

She headed home, determined to keep her mind off of Chandler, so that by the time Pete came to pick her up on Saturday night, she would be completely focused on _him_.

Monica keyed into her apartment, and headed directly for the shower.  It had been a long night, and she felt grungy.

She took a long, hot shower, then pulled on her robe and walked out into the apartment, feeling refreshed.

She changed into track pants and an oversized sweatshirt, and decided that ice cream sounded absolutely perfect for dinner.

Smiling, she headed toward the kitchen.

That was when she noticed it.

She was certain it hadn't been there when she'd come in.

It was a single tea light candle, burning in a clear glass container, in the middle of her kitchen table.

Curious, she walked toward the table, and noticed a note, sitting under the candle.

She picked up the note, and opened it slowly, her hands trembling with anticipation.

_I see the stars, and they shine only for you…_

The note was so cryptic—what did it mean?  She looked around the apartment, trying to figure out what to do next.

"I see the stars…stars…" she muttered to herself.  Maybe she's supposed to go to the roof?  Shrugging, she grabbed her coat and pulled it on as she walked out of the apartment.  She closed her door, and glanced at Chandler's closed door.  The light in the apartment was on—he must be home.  A short wave of disappointment coursed through her, as she realized that Pete must have set this up.  She sighed, mentally scolding herself for her initial disappointment.  She turned, and walked toward the stairs that led to the roof, and she noted that each step had a similar candle sitting on it—a clear indication that she was headed in the right direction.

Wrapping her coat around her, she shuffled up the stairs, following the candles up to the roof.  Taking a deep breath, and forcing herself to want Pete to be standing on the roof, she slowly opened the heavy metal door.

The door opened with a creak, and Monica stepped out onto the roof.  It was pitch black, and completely quiet.  Confused, she looked up to the sky, hoping to at least see a few stars.  But as it had been all day, the sky was completely overcast, hiding any star that may be shining.

"Hello?" Monica ventured, her voice echoing slightly.

Behind her, she heard a switch being thrown, and moments later, the roof was alight with hundreds of shining white pearl lights.

They were draped around the perimeter of the roof, and in long, grand strands high above her head, sparkling like stars against the charcoal sky.

Music drifted into the air; a familiar tune, soft and low.

And despite the fact that she wanted the person behind all this to be someone else, she couldn't help but to smile.

It was utterly romantic, after all.

She heard footsteps crunching on gravel, and she took a deep breath, and turned to see Pete's silhouette before her.

She smiled, but as he stepped into the light, her heart, and the world around her stopped.

Dressed in a sharp black suit and striking blue tie, Chandler had never looked more dashing.

He smiled, and approached her slowly, a single red rose in his hands.

"Hi," he whispered, as he stepped in front of her.

"Hello," Monica managed, though her eyes were watering and her throat was closing in on her, "I was hoping it was you," she whispered, "I was hoping so much."

"It's me," Chandler smiled, and gently wiped a tear from her cheek, "Turns out I'm not okay with us being friends who date other people who are billionaires."

Monica laughed, and Chandler handed her the rose.

"I'm sorry I took so long to come around."

"I'm sorry I went out with Pete," Monica replied softly.

"I'm sorry that I couldn't afford Italy," Chandler smiled.

"I'd rather be here, with you," Monica looked up at Chandler, and he leaned down and kissed her softly.  He pulled away, and wiped the remaining tears from her face.

"I told myself that all I needed was a new city, and I would be okay.  Iz would be okay.  Turns out, I was wrong.  I love you, Monica.  I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too," Monica smiled, and Chandler kissed her again, deeply, and passionately. 

As they kissed, Monica felt something tickle her face.  She opened her eyes, and pulled away from Chandler, her face lighting up like the lights that surrounded them.

"It's snowing!"

Chandler looked up, then back down at Monica, who had her head tilted back, and her eyes closed, allowing the snowflakes to dance merrily off her face.

"It's gorgeous," he whispered, and wrapped his arms around her waist.  She opened her eyes, and looked up at him, smiling.

"Gorgeous," he whispered again, and kissed her softly.

AN: Epilogue up soon.


	10. Epilogue: Head Over Heels

AN: Alright, am I the only person who thought this fic was finished? Apparently I never posted this epilogue. Man, I really am getting old and senile. My bad.

_Head Over Heels_

_Epilogue_

_I wanted to be with you alone_

_And talk about the weather_

_But traditions I can trace against the child in your face_

_Won't escape my attention_

_You keep your distance with a system of touch_

_And gentle persuasion_

_I'm lost in admiration could I need you this much_

_Two Years Later_

The restaurant was filled with people Chandler hadn't seen in years, and many people he'd never met in his life. It had been a stressful few days; Chandler's exhaustion was evident. He really had not been prepared for the conflicting emotions that had begun to overwhelm him.

It has started when a few members of his family had flown into town. His Aunt Irene, in her typical drunken state, had called Monica 'Caitlin' twice, and then proceeded to humiliate him by asking Isabelle how she felt about her father remarrying so fast. Isabelle astutely pointed out that her mother had been gone for some time, and that she liked Monica, but the damage had been done.

In one afternoon, old wounds had been ripped apart.

Following his revelation on the roof two years earlier, Chandler had thrown himself completely into his relationship with Monica. Each day that he spent with her, he felt himself healing a little more, and by the time he had proposed eleven months ago, he was confident that he was ready for anything.

The months following the candle-lit, Central Park proposal were hectic, as Monica began planning The Ultimate Wedding. Chandler had sat back and let Monica have her way, content with the knowledge that with Monica running things, everything would be perfect.

….

_"What do you think of these two?" Monica placed two photographs on the kitchen table, in front of Chandler. He looked down at the photos, and shrugged nonchalantly._

_"Oh, come on sweetie, just pick one!" Monica sighed._

_"Well, I mean—they're just cakes, Mon. I dunno—" Chandler shrugged._

_"Look," Monica fumed, yanking the photos off of the table in one swift motion, "I know you've done all this before, but this is kind of a big deal for _me_, it being _my_ first wedding and all. So could you at least _attempt_ a little bit of enthusiasm here?"_

_Chandler looked up; hurt flashing in his eyes._

_"Mon, I'm sorry—I didn't mean to…look, I really am excited about this—but I know that you like things your own way—and I just thought that it would be best to let you do what you want to do is all…"_

_"It's your wedding too, Chandler."_

_"I know, I'm sorry, I really am. Let me see the cakes again."_

_Monica smiled and held the photos up in front of Chandler._

_"I like that one," Chandler pointed, and Monica peered at the photo._

_"Really? How about the other one?" Monica suggested, shaking the other photo in his face._

_Chandler laughed, "Yeah, that's the one I meant."_

_Monica smiled triumphantly, and sunk into the chair next to Chandler. She watched him for a long moment, as he went back to reading the newspaper._

_"Chandler? I—I'm sorry about what I said—about you not caring because it's your second wedding. It was out of line."_

_Chandler set down the paper, and looked at Monica, smiling softly._

_"I know what you meant. And I hope you know that just because it's my second one, it doesn't mean it's any less special. I love you."_

_"I love you too."_

_…_

Chandler sighed, and leaned heavily against the back wall of the restaurant, his face shrouded by shadow, as he watched his mother and father eye each other cattily, comparing stilettos and plunging necklines with equal distaste.

He closed his eyes and sighed.

It wasn't that he was having doubts about marrying Monica. He loved her, more that anything, and would go to the ends of the Earth to make her happy.

Irene, his parents, and everything about the wedding reminded him of Caitlin, and reminded him that all of this could end in an instant. And though his daughter seemed to be just fine with this new, big step—he was beginning to realize that he still had unresolved doubts and insecurities—and he wasn't sure why.

"Who are we hiding from?" Monica's soft voice permeated his thoughts, and he felt her hand take his. He opened his eyes, and smiled at Monica.

"Everyone," Chandler sighed, "especially those sequin-clad parents of mine."

"Yes, that is quite a dress your father is wearing," Monica laughed.

"That's nothing, wait 'til you see what he'll wear to the wedding," Chandler said flatly.

"I don't care, as long as he's not wearing the same thing I am," Monica replied, and squeezed Chandler's hand, "You okay? You've been kind of somber tonight."

"Yeah, I'm just…" Chandler pulled Monica toward him, and leaned down, placing his forehead on hers and closing his eyes, "I love you so much," he whispered softly.

Monica smiled, and wrapped her arms tightly around Chandler's neck.

"I love you too."

Someone behind them cleared their throat, and Chandler and Monica pulled away from each other slowly.

"Hey, um, sorry to interrupt, but um…Monica, Mom is looking for you."

"Oh, okay," Monica shot Chandler an apologetic glance, and he gave her a quick kiss. As she walked away, Ross turned back to Chandler.

"Chandler, I, um, I was wondering if we could talk."

"Yeah, Ross, I really wanted to talk to you, too. About Joey—"

"No, it's okay, really—I know you and Joey are really close. And I _guess_ I'm okay with not being your Best Man…"

"Ross, I know that you and I have gotten really close, and—well, we'll be related soon," Chandler smiled, "The thing is, when I married—when I got married the first time, I was kind of forced to make Caitlin's brother Alan my Best Man—and Joey was really hurt. I guess I feel like I kind of owe him—ya know?"

"I—I didn't know that. It makes sense, of course—look, I really am okay with it—and Joey is a great guy. I'm sorry for being kind of a jerk about it—I guess I was a little hurt too," Ross laughed.

"I'm sorry we never got a chance to talk about this before now. I meant to—"

"It's alright. And hey, you can be my Best Man when Rachel and I get married—it's kind of be the same!"

Chandler smiled. "Thanks, man. Does that mean…you and Rachel are finally making it official?"

"Not yet. She's still…I dunno. She's not there yet."

"But you are?"

"Yeah. I mean, I see you and Monica, and how happy you are, and Phoebe and Joey with their baby on the way, and I think…you know, I'm ready for that. But Rachel really wants this promotion at work, and I just think…family isn't on her mind yet."

"Are you willing to wait?"

"Yeah, of course. I just…I guess I just hope that she comes around soon, ya know?"

"Sure," Chandler laughed, "But when did this role reversal happen? Shouldn't it be Rachel pressuring you?"

"Whatever," Ross shook his head, and Chandler chuckled.

"How are you holding up, anyway? You look a little…stressed out," Ross knitted his brow in concern.

Chandler sighed and looked past Ross, to Monica, who was quietly arguing with her mother across the room.

"I love her, Ross, so much. And yet I can't get this knot out of my stomach. I wish I could explain it, but I can't."

"She loves you too. And she knows that Caitlin will always be a part of your life. Don't be afraid to let her in." Ross smiled supportively, and Chandler nodded.

"Thanks, man."

"Anytime—bro," Ross laughed, and turned when he heard Rachel call his name, "gotta go," he winked, and walked away, leaving Chandler alone again.

….

The bright lights of the city permeated the thin white curtains in his hotel room, casting an eerie, ethereal glow over his bed. He sighed and turned to his side, hoping to get at least a little bit of sleep before the wedding.

Despite his talk with Ross, Chandler still felt uneasy about moving forward. His emotions confused him, considering that, up until now, he had been eager to have Monica in his life—to marry her and start anew.

He didn't recall feeling this nervous in the hours before his first wedding.

"That's because you were a fool in love," a soft voice filled the room, and Chandler turned and sat up.

"Are you saying that you weren't?" Chandler smiled, as Caitlin sat down at the edge of the bed.

"We both were…. young and foolish. We thought we were indestructible."

"We weren't, though," Chandler said darkly.

"No. But just because my life is over doesn't mean yours has to be. You love her. And she loves you, and deep down, you know that everything is going to be okay."

"What about you?" Chandler whispered, tears filling his eyes.

"This is exactly what I wanted for you, Chandler. You don't think I'd send you just anyone, do you?" Caitlin smiled.

"Huh?"

"You were meant to find her. And she was meant to love you and our daughter. This was no accident."

"So you are okay…with me marrying Monica?"

"Of course I am."

Chandler smiled, and gazed at Caitlin for a long moment. His smile faded slightly, and he wrapped his arms around his legs protectively.

"God, I miss you, baby," Chandler sighed.

"A little less than you used to," Caitlin winked, and Chandler flushed, "And that's okay. You are going to be so happy."

"I am," Chandler smiled again, "Thank you."

Caitlin smiled, but said nothing. And in an instant, she was gone.

Chandler lay back on the bed, closed his eyes, and discovered the peace he had been seeking.

….

"I can't believe we're married," Monica smiled, as she and Chandler swayed to the same sweet tune that they had that night on the roof.

"I know. Are you sure you're okay with being a 'Bing'?" Chandler joked.

"Absolutely," Monica replied softly.

"Can I tell you something?" Chandler asked tentatively, as he pulled back slightly to meet her gaze.

"Sure."

"I was…apprehensive about today. I guess I still felt…I don't know…guilty? Nervous? I don't really know."

"You have been kind of distant these last few days," Monica noted, with a sadness that broke his heart.

"I'm so sorry, Mon. But I'm here now."

"What happened to bring you back?"

"I…" Chandler looked up and scanned the room, his eyes falling on his daughter, who was standing near the dance floor, grinning wildly at them. "I saw an angel, and she told me everything was going to be alright."

Monica followed Chandler's gaze, and smiled when she saw Isabelle. She waved her new stepdaughter over to them, and the threesome finished the dance together.

…

"They make quite a family," Rachel said, as she took a seat next to Ross at the head table.

"They certainly do," Ross smiled.

"It would be nice, I think…to have something like that," Rachel sighed, her eyes never leaving the dance floor. Ross looked over at her, his eyes wide. She looked toward him, and smiled.

"When you're ready," she whispered, and grinned.

Ross' face lit up, and he pulled her into his arms, laughing and crying simultaneously.

…

"Alone, at last," Monica smiled suggestively, as Chandler set her down, just inside of their hotel room doorway.

"Indeed." Chandler smiled, and kissed his bride tenderly.

"Thank you," Monica sighed, "for a beautiful day."

"Thank you, for coming into my life," Chandler smiled.

Monica wiped a tear from her cheek, and ran her hand through Chandler's hair slowly.

"You know, I was talking to Iz, and she said something about wanting a brother or sister to play with…"

"She did, did she?" Chandler grinned, and pulled Monica toward him, "Well, let's see what we can do about that…"

_The End_

_I wanted to be with you alone_

_And talk about the weather_

_But traditions I can trace against the child in your face_

_Won't escape my attention_

_You keep your distance with a system of touch_

_And gentle persuasion_

_I'm lost in admiration could I need you this much_

_Oh, you're wasting my time_

_You're just wasting time_

_Something happens and I'm head over heels_

_I never find out till I'm head over heels_

_Something happens and I'm head over heels_

_Ah don't take my heart_

_Don't break my heart_

_Don't throw it away_

_I made a fire and watching burn_

_Thought of your future_

_With one foot in the past now just how long will it last_

_No no no have you no ambition_

_My mother and my brothers used to breathe in clean in air_

_And dreaming I'm a doctor_

_It's hard to be a man when there's a gun in your hand_

_Oh I feel so..._

_Something happens and I'm head over heels_

_And this my four leaf clover_

_I'm on the line, one open mind_

This is my four-leaf clover 

(_Head Over Heels_, by Tears For Fears)


End file.
